The Hooded Nightmare
by TheBatKid
Summary: The son of the Bat, the child of an Assassin, the villain of Arkham City. How would you react to exile?
1. Little Tobias

Hooded Nightmare

Tobias al Ghul was the lesser known son of Batman and Talia, and he was by far the most destructive. He cared little for people and often found himself calculating how many he would kill to get what he wanted, or to have the sweet taste of revenge. He was thrown out by his grandfather and banished from the League of Assassins for talking against him...he would often note to himself how his mother had not spoke for him and begged for him to stay, it was only due to his skill in battle that he had escaped with his life. Obviously he was the less desired son – his whole existence had been erased from the books and now he thirsted for revenge.

As well as being destructive, the child also had an extremely high intelligence and a devious way of getting around the law. He was very tech-savvy, much like his father, whom he also hated. You see, after Talia had given birth to him, she had neglected to tell the crusader he had a son. Ra's al Ghul wished for him to become his successor, but until he could convince the hero to defect to his cause he ordered his daughter to keep her son on a need-to-know basis. Instead of telling Tobias the truth, they lied and said Batman had long ago turned his back on them.

However he considered his exile a blessing in disguise. For a long time he found his grandfathers methods outdated so he now aimed to keep his own techniques, a mutated form of the training he had received. Brief stays in Arkham Asylum perfected these unique styles and made him a deadly foe to go against, although you could always tell when Tobias had been at a crime scene as he would leave a small heart-shaped shard of metal wherever he had sat. It was his way of telling them that he was always watching, no matter what they tried to do, no matter where they tried to run, he would always be one step ahead of them with two eyes trained.

It soon became apparent to Ra's that he had made a terrible mistake. Talia's life was in danger as Tobias had put her down on a target list, but the child had no interest in killing her before his father. Batman was the true villain in his eyes and after his "unfortunate" demise; the assassin would sell his body to the Joker and allow the Clown Prince of crime to have his fun. When the bastard was dead, he had no more interest in him.

Talia, facing exile when she made the admission, told Bruce about his firstborn and his twisted plans. She had long been weighted by her guilt, telling her ex-lover how his son had adopted to a villainous attitude, and screamed that she had not known just how furious her child would be with his rejection.

Ever since that day, Batman had been searching for his son. He had been told that Tobias had black hair and green eyes, but the boy had heard that his father had become wise to his existence and covered his face up. Now people knew him as the "Hooded Nightmare," an extremely skilled child that Bruce had deduced was his son. However, he had never encountered the boy for long enough to ask him, or even begin to redeem himself, instead when they met Tobias would attack him on sight and then make an agile escape. It was very frustrating, as Talia had taught her son to make his tracks almost untraceable, and his footsteps quiet.

Now Tobias spent his days planning his father's death or making hit-man contracts with the supervillains of Gotham. He would hardly come into contact with Batman, and much less his mother, but he remained determined to destroy him. Despite not knowing his secret identity, the child was convinced that the man was evil...and nothing would stop him in his quest.


	2. The Informant

Tobias had been thrown in Arkham City as soon as it was opened, and he was keeping himself away from all the other thugs. The super criminals, such as Joker and the Penguin, were battling for control in the City and the Hooded Nightmare was looking forward to the arguments and battles that would ensue. The thought of seeing the wars break out, watching as men shot each other down and blood spilled on the ground...it sent a certain familiar feeling of home through him.

The snow fell delicately over the dirty rooftops as Tobias ran along them. He held his two daggers, specially crafted so they could slice into anything in nothing flat, and his hood fit cosily on his head. He wore a thick outfit to keep himself warm whilst the criminals around him suffered and caught hypothermia. If he felt any sympathy, any human emotions for the people around him, he might have offered them his source of clean clothing, but he did not want them to all murder the political prisoners and steal their coats. Besides, it was more fun to watch them turn blue.

"I swear, if Joker didn't want me to find this bloody kid for him, I'd be inside right now! Letting us grunts freeze," muttered a heavyset man wearing an orange prison suit and holding an AK47. His friend nodded beside him and the Hooded Nightmare halted immediately, his feet aching slightly, and looked down to see the minion.

"Why the Hell would he want to see the Nightmare?"

"I don't bloody know, do I? Who wants to see that kid? I heard when he creeps up behind you, you'll never hear him and you just hit the ground. How am I supposed to find him?" The informant moaned as he clutched his gun. Tobias raised his eyebrows before standing up and jumping off the edge of the building. A normal child would have been severely hurt, if not dead, but he landed as agile as a cat. The men beside him jumped, and he kept to the shadows.

"A good idea would be to say my name," he said menacingly, "Did you not hear? There is a rumour that whenever you call me, I shall appear, but there shall be a price. Can you pay that price, in blood?"

Satisfaction ran through his veins when the men backed away from him; it was certainly a feat that he could make grown men cower in their boots.

"I-I-It's Joker that wants to s-see you, not me!" The heavyset criminal stammered, "He said something about the bat, how he's in the city somewhere, b-but I don't know anything else kid! Go to Joker's Funland!"

The child's blood began to boil. He clenched his fists and bit his lip at the mention of, "the bat". Why was his father here? Couldn't the "amazing" Batman be somewhere else, making someone else's night a misery?

"I will go...but first," with a lightning quick strike, the Hooded Nightmare pinned one of the men to the ground and placed his dagger against his throat. For a moment, Tobias lost himself, and all he could hear was his blood pumping steadily through his ears. He felt almost like Zsasz, driven by his need for death and blood, not caring whether he killed hundreds or thousands. But he did not say that he had been sent by God, he simply enjoyed death. It must have been inherited from his grandfather.

"Please, let me go, don't hurt me!" The criminal begged as he slowly dragged the knife across his neck, not penetrating it, but given a nice graze. His voice snapped him out of his trance, and he nodded, getting off of him.

"Remind everyone that I'm not a nice boy," he sneered, "And I will kill anyone


	3. Home Sweet Home

In the silent streets of Arkham City, a young hooded boy searched for food amongst the rubbish. Tobias had been hungry since he was thrown in here, but now the effects of it had started to show, and he refused to go in front of Joker with any trace of vulnerability on his face.

His stomach rumbled as he dug deeper into the foul smelling cans and he tried to hold back the urge to vomit. He was a highly skilled assassin, for God's sake! Why did he have to bury his way into filth for food when people like Bruce Wayne or Jack Ryder got to sit in giant houses and eat their gourmet meals? He had more ability in his little finger than both of them combined!

Flicking a piece of rotten pear out of his hair, he picked up a half-eaten doughnut that looked like it had been abandoned there days ago. It was old, stale, but it was food and that was good enough. He would choke it down like his sense of pride.

After the disgusting meal, he decided to take a detour from Joker's Funland and go to get some sleep. He had a humble abode just fifteen minutes from that alleyway - it wasn't much to look at but it was his – and he felt the need for sleep creeping along his young body like a parasite. He started to noiselessly run through the street, noting that it had begun to snow now. Was Mister Freeze in Arkham too? Or was it just a sudden change in weather?

Whatever it was, it affected him badly. Although he had a home, it was shabby and the windows were broken. He had a simple mattress, flat as cardboard, and no blanket. His blanket-like hood and cape would serve him as a cover, but he still felt the pricks of cold.

He used mirrors to reflect the spotlight's along the guard wall and give him some sight; there was a locked door in his home that he had never had any interest in opening. He assumed most of the draft came from there as it was noisy beyond the splintered entrance, like wind whistling through a window pane, and light shone from the empty bit of space underneath it. He had no wish to know what was in there exactly; he would never need the extra room.

When he finally arrived, he climbed in through the window and adjusted the mirrors to show his mattress and a rickety old chair. On it sat one piece of chalk, two coins and a dwindling supply of shard-hearts. These were the only possessions to his name, and he cherished them.

Taking off his blanket/hood and cape, he tucked himself up and listened to the sounds of Arkham City. Thugs beating each other with guns, yelling obscenities, and threatening to report one another to "the big bosses". Occasionally, he also heard the faint calls of TYGER guards giving orders from Dr. Strange, the person who was apparently in charge of this criminal-run world.

Tobias uncomfortably shifted from his back to his left side, and felt the longing to murder someone creeping through his mind. He wanted desperately to kill someone no one would miss, another death under his belt that he could thank his expert skills for. Strange had told him he was "disturbed" and was very curious in his roots, asking him how the League had raised him. He was rather persistent about it; even going as far too put the young boy in electro-shock therapy and recording their encounters.

But after receiving nothing from the Hooded Nightmare, Hugo had soon lost interest and just sent him in, telling TYGER that he was simply a disturbed child that needed to have his weapons confiscated.

But they did not take them. Instead they had been completely disinterested in his daggers which allowed him to sneak them past and be functional within the prison, and that was all he asked.

Slowly, he felt his eyes begin to shut and his ears began to pick up any sound of hostiles. There was no one close, except maybe Catwoman who had a flat somewhere along the next row of accommodations, and he felt himself finally surrendering to sleep.

"Good night," he whispered as a pang of loneliness hit him, "Sweet dreams."


	4. The Fight

Tobias was awakened by a loud sudden noise. He hadn't been asleep long – twenty minutes at the most – and the moon still dangled high in the sky. He deduced it had been a gunshot, although he was not sure what type of gun could have made such an explosion...maybe Deadshot was in the City? Only his sniper could have been responsible for such a disturbing noise.

But the Nightmare was glad; his skin had turned a faint shade of blue from the cold as he had forgotten to drape the blanket over himself, and he needed to get moving if he was to make the appointment with Joker. Deadshot's assassination contract had served the perfect alarm clock.

Getting up from his uncomfortable mattress, he collected two heart shards and walked up to the broken window. The snow had not settled although it still fell from the dark sky, which help him a little bit, but the breeze whistled through the shattered glass. It was cold...too cold for the child to travel for too long.

The Funland was about ten minutes away, minus the trouble he would run into with the other criminals, and he would also have to travel over water. He would turn into a block of ice if he tried to swim, he was not a glider, and he did not have special gadgets to help him swing over it. How could he possibly make it there in this weather?

He put on his hood and cape and flipped out of the window, landing perfectly on the ground below. His hand almost froze at its icy touch, almost immediately his teeth started chattering. Mister Freeze must have been responsible for this – Not even Mother Nature could be so unkind! A smile stretched on his face as he imagined how Poison Ivy would be reacting to this cold weather.

He began running towards Maxie Zeus's old nightclub, one that had been unfortunately caught in seismic activity not long ago. That place had a lovely vantage point along its top, right near the statue, where the Hooded Nightmare could see all of the Funland. There he could deduce how he was possibly going to make it over the water and to the Clown Prince of crime.

TYGER guards were roaming the streets, beating thugs who got out of hand. The child stifled giggles when they shouted, and felt the itch to put his daggers to good use, but he had to resist it now. It would not do him well to kill a guard at the moment, not when his friends were right around the corner armed to the T. He would lead one away later - take his life somewhere in an isolated alleyway. That was the way of the rogue assassins, as he had been told.

His legs ached like they were frozen at the joints; he felt like he was breaking them with every step he took. What if he caught pneumonia? How would he be able to make his hit-man deadlines if he had that? His whole way of living would be destroyed because of some mutated cold!

Suddenly, he was distracted by an odd shadow on the security wall. It was like a cocoon, for a massive butterfly, and he found himself admiring it. What sort of animal would be tucked up in that? But it soon took the form of something else...something that Tobias hated more than anything on this earth.

"Batman," he growled under his breath, air billowing out of nose like smoke, and clenching his teeth together. The cocoon had blossomed into a silhouette of the bat, the Nightmare's father who had turned away from him at birth, so he had been told.

"Hooded Nightmare, stop!" the crusader shouted, "I want to talk to you!"

Tobias felt his hand grip one of his daggers hidden under his hood/cape. He bit his lip. Rage was now circling his body and the thought of his original predicament had left his mind completely. He heard Batman glide _almost_ silently through the air, and land behind him. He was now biting so hard he could taste blood.

"Nightmare, come with me, we can get you help for your trauma. Actual help, you don't belong in Arkham!" The Dark Knight said, walking up to his son with his hand outstretched. Tobias was losing himself again; he could hear the blood rushing through his ears.

_I have a job to do, _he thought, _you can't kill him. Not yet, just run Nightmare! He'll never be able to catch you, run! Run!_

But he could not listen to reason anymore. This was another chance at sweet revenge, and he was not known for passing up these opportunities.

"You'll have to pay for your crimes, there is no escaping that, but I'll pay for the best care in the world. You need a doctor, not Strange," Bruce pleaded slightly. He had never seen his son's face, it was always covered up. Today was no exception as Tobias pulled the hood/cape up to his eyes.

"Oh no, Batman, I don't need you to pay for care," he said slowly, menacingly whilst turning and shining his emerald eyes at him, "I just need you to BLEED."

With one quick motion, two daggers flew out of the Nightmare's belt and slashed out at his father's extended hand. Two straight cut wounds had been sliced through the glove, and Bruce retracted it quickly with a slight whimper of pain. The boy wasted no time – he flew at the man with weapons readied and his soul crying out for violence. Finally, the thrill of battle was becoming known to him again.

Batman struck out at him to halt his child but Tobias twisted his body and altered direction, landing next to the hero and dragging his daggers across his leg. Not as big a cut as he would have hoped, but it still left a perfectly placed wound. He tried to make another one, but his target moved out of the way and dropped a smoke pellet, disabling any other attack move the child could make. His ears were covered by the fabric and his eyes were watering, and the occasional disturbance from the TYGER guards made it impossible for him to trace the vibrations in the ground.

By the time the smoke had cleared and the child's senses had returned, Batman was gone. The only thing that remained of his father was a few droplets of blood and the faint imprints of feet where he had stood.

Disappointed, he sheathed his daggers and glared out into the dark night. He could see neon signs and the broken radio tower, but no other sign of the hero. The opportunity had passed him.

"Too afraid to face me?" he shouted, "Too afraid to stare me in the eyes? I will find you Batman, mark my words – Your blood will wash my boots!"


	5. Joker

It had been unfortunate that his father had left the battle. Tobias could still feel the blood pumping in his ears when he walked along the rooftops, close against the walls in the shadows. How many times would he be forced to suffer that...that over-sized rodent escaping his grasp?

He soon found a way to the Joker's Funland. The ground was frozen over behind the old GCPD building – enough to walk along, at least – and to make the rest of the way he was just going to have to jump and hope for the best. Falling in the water meant he had a high chance of catching hypothermia and that would only worsen his situation.

The Hooded Nightmare managed to get over the other side without so much trouble. A discarded boat provided an excellent place to jump and he landed right near armed thugs, who must have been expecting him in some way. They did not shoot at him; instead, they directed him to a largish building far away at the end of Joker's territory. Tobias managed to hide his amusement that each guard was plastered with awful clown mask and even manufactured a false, "thank you," in return for the information. Who said that murderers didn't have manners?

It was relaxing to walk to the place. Guards left him alone so he felt no need to hide or go through the trouble of running along the rooftops, and he felt as if he was being...welcomed, in some way. It was strictly business that he was there – it wasn't like the child was joining forces with the overblown, face-paint obsessed maniac. His murders were an art form, not insane mass-killings.

And this made him think. Why would the Joker need his skills now? Why would he hire a silent assassin, when he liked to kill and maim openly? Surely if he was unable to do so, his groupie Harley Quinn would be more than willing to do it for him? Was the Nightmare simply walking straight into a trap?

He slowed down after the thought. He was more cautious, more aware of the guard's movements and calculating how many of them had guns. As he passed through them he noticed more and more, and realised he was coming closer to the Clown Prince of Crime. He mused to himself how funny it would be to kill him but he knew he would never do it. Too many people would be after him then – like that Quinn woman.

Soon, he found himself within the walls of the steel mill. It was obvious that he was not trusted as he was escorted to the Joker's main room but he found it difficult to care. He would never ask a super criminal to trust an assassin; the possibilities for betrayal were endless.

On second thought, he would enjoy it if Joker trusted him. It would make it easier to kill him then.

"Mister J, it's the assassin you ordered!" The trill rang from above him. He looked up to see the ridiculously dressed Harley standing above him, a pistol in her hands, and an inane smile on her face. She was pretty, to some degree, if she wasn't homicidally insane Tobias was sure many men would be clamouring for her attention. But the makeup, the blonde-and-red hair, and the outfit showed she was solely Joker's and a fearsome lunatic.

"Wonderful! Bring him in, my dear, and don't dilly-dally!" A rasping voice said from behind her. It broke off into coughing and spluttering soon after, and the Nightmare's ears pricked up. Was Joker sick?

The guard behind him butted him with the gun to move him along. The child bit his lip, trying to calm his rage and remained rooted to the ground. There was no way he was going to move when the lower-killers were forcing him.

"Hey, brat, move!" He barked. Tobias lost control at that point and pivoted in his home-made boots. They looked ordinary, if a little big, but the boy had long ago customised them with hidden blades modelled after films he had managed to see. With the expert move, they were released at the back of his heels, and he flipped up into the air. The blades found the soft skin of the gunman's neck and an almost immediate way to slice through them, spurting his blood over ten feet and drenching two other henchmen.

He landed on the floor, hand on the ground, and looked up slowly to see Quinn smiling down at him, a witchy glint shining in her eye. Was that admiration, or insanity?

Before he could kill again he was dragged to the Joker's room. It was there that the assassin saw the super criminal's pitiful state.

Back on Arkham Asylum, he had taken a rather direct and large amount of Titan. It seemed that now, he was feeling the full effects of that overdose. The once formidable Joker was just a shadow.

His skin was cracked and chapped, his hair thinned, and his once proud stature had been hunched as a coughing fit racked his body. He applied more makeup to his face, which still looked insane but now in a...different way. A frustrated insane, the type you could see on a homicidal maniac with no means of wrecking havoc. He was no longer threatening and, if you stripped away his Harley and his henchmen, he would be nothing. He would not even be a killer.

"Oh, Mister J, if you need me to do anything-"

"Quiet Harley. Go and get that formula I told you about – and don't waste any time! Otherwise there'll be one more body in the furnace!"

The Clownette, as Tobias liked to refer to her, gave a frustrated look at him before flipping out of the musty room. Then, it was just the assassin and the clown, staring at each other in the ugly carcass of a supervillain's lair.

"You do not look well. May I hazard a guess of Titan overdose?" He found himself saying just to break the silence. A wacky smile stretched across his face as he sat in a chair directly in front of a window, glaring weak moonlight.

"Ya' figured me out kiddo, how did you do that?" He said sarcastically, "I'm so sick, they compare me to...well, me!" He could not even laugh properly, as another fit racked his body.

"So, why have you called me here now?" Tobias was eager to get on with business. He did not like it here – it was cold and eerie like an abandoned house in the middle of the woods.

"Well, kiddo; turns out that Harley and I are going to be crazy parents!" He coughed once more before continuing, "Two maniacs make a little maniac, y'know?"

The Nightmare cocked his head to one side and walked slowly towards the criminal, his interests rising. A baby? Those two psychos' were having a little bonnie?

"Congratulations – is it Joker or human?" The Joker smiled. The child knew that the stupid joke would make the supervillain smile.

"So...tell me about what you want me to do."


	6. Be Wary

The Hooded Nightmare walked away from the industrial district with more questions than answers. The jingling bag of nickels and dimes that he now owned was large and overflowing but he did not care about that right now, why would the Joker enlist his services for that? He could not imagine it...not with the maniac clown...

He stopped at the edge of the district and picked up a metal pipe, looking over it carefully. Good condition...perfect. He would make many heart shards out of this and that would solve one of his problems, and the coin should ensure that he got a decent place to rest his head. Or at least fix the windows of his current accommodation.

Still, the job he had been entrusted with circled in his mind. It would be like an actual job – his pay would keep being renewed until it finished and he would be expected to go about it without failing. But why would such a maniacal, homicidal, badly dressed criminal show any care? Why would he give payment as a show of good faith, to entice the Nightmare? Was he scared? Did he care?

Being a personal guard wasn't Tobias' cup of tea. Ordered about and forced to take care of someone that should learn how to look after themselves, it just wasn't his way. But how could he turn up such a vast payment just because of his stubbornness? He would be a fool to not do it...he would be stupider then Quinn.

He thought about it as he returned to his humble home. Setting down his coin, he decided he would do it until a better option came along, and he would continue to go about his contracts when the runt did not need his protection. If the Joker's unborn needed a personal guard, then he would do it, but he would not associate himself with Quinn. The last thing he needed was to listen to a madwoman rave and moan.

Taking off his cape, he began to cut out the heart shards and listened to the criminals below him. It was all idle chitchat, about the Joker's illness or the apparent defeat that Penguin had suffered. His ears pricked up when he heard the Riddler was incarcerated – that intellectual owed him a great deal of money for a recent string of trophies he had hidden for him. He needed that money and intended to get it back, whether or whether not the Batman had found them. It was Mr. Nigma's awful planning that made him fail, not Tobias' skills.

He put his cape/hood back on with a mind to go out and search for the criminal, but found himself at a loss at where he could be. If he was in Arkham City, he must have contacted Mr. Fine to get a hideout, and that meant that the Nightmare would have to tap into a computer to find out. Could it be possible that the Riddler might have slipped up somewhere? He needed to get that money...he was not about to be made a fool of.

The child left his home, clutching his newly made heart shards, his eyes glinting in the darkness and he watched the world below him. Guns, weapons, violence...it was a prison after his own heart and he felt oddly at peace here. There was no way he would ever stay however, if he had the option, as he had been taught long ago that a good assassin never made a place "home". He longed for a stable place to live, where he would be able to go about his contracts and not fret about his accommodation.

"Nightmare!" He heard a hiss. He turned, but there was no one. His imagination? _Yes, it must be._

He began walking again, slowly. "Nightmare!"

The boy definitely heard it that time. He turned around and readied his blades, glaring into the shadows.

"Who is there?! Show yourself, before I make the snow red!" Tobias screamed into the darkness. It was a clear challenge, but he doubted that the hidden person would actually show themselves when they saw the blades.

He gasped when they stepped out of the shadows. It was one of the elite guards his mother had – a good friend of the Nightmare until he had left. They rarely ever saw each other and, when they did, it was only to convey a warning onto the boy and then she was gone again. What a sad arrangement.

"What is it?"

"Word travels that you are entering a business arrangement with the Clown," she said, walking up to the child, "Do you know how deadly that could be?"

"No more deadly than being an assassin."

"I have heard tales that the Joker freely kills his associates and maims his business partners – how can you be so blind?! He'll have you killed before you can be paid twice!"

"I doubt it. I cannot discuss the details with you, for obvious reasons, but I do not think he's going to kill me. Anyway-"

"He has already infected your father with his own blood. The Batman is so desperate that he came to us, and fooled your mother into believing that he wished to take the place of the great Ra's Al Ghul."

Tobias' eyebrows raised and he narrowed his eyes. Batman was sick? Could it be possible that he would finally be rid of the insufferable father?

"Do not worry about me. Maybe you should be worrying more about my mother – she'll be so 'devastated' when the buffoon dies!" The Nightmare started laughing and turned away from his friend, gesturing for her to leave.

"Be wary of the Clown, Tobias," she said as she began to leave, "The last thing we need is for an assassin to be killed by such a...lowly criminal."


	7. What Do You Treasure?

Tobias was tired. He was hungry, cold and, even if he denied it, he was scared. The assassin did not know whether he was going to survive the next day even though the odds were in his favour, and sometimes it got so bad that he considered his father's offer. He wanted a life where he did not need to worry or fret...just a simple life that he could enjoy would be enough.

But the fates were unkind. Cursing him with the driven need for blood-spilling and allowing him to be birthed by parents that neither loved nor cared for him – anyone would have been driven mad by the things he had done. Even now as he ran along the blistering cold streets of Arkham City armed with his weapons, he felt that the spirits were following him, just waiting for him to collapse and die in the cold snow.

Nightmare missed his mother. He missed her soft voice and her expert skills; how she always made him strive for the best when it seemed he had nothing left to give. Talia had been a bane of his life but if he had the chance, the option...some things were best left unsaid. Not even his parents had loved him, and so the spirits had gifted him with the skills he needed to be independent.

Sometimes, that's all people needed to survive.

He travelled for what seemed like hours with no destination. No path, no aim, no goal – he wanted to feel the cold air against his skin and feel the snow being crushed underneath his feet. The simple pleasure of feeling these things made up for the life he had to lead, almost enough that he actually thanked fate for his predicaments.

"NIGHTMARE!" The scream startled him. He slipped from the rooftops and landed on the floor, making sure that his face was masked and his eyes were glaring through. The child searched for the screamer, and saw him instantly. He smiled.

"Quincy Sharp. You son of a bitch, throwing me in here," Tobias shouted as he pushed the short fat man against his campaign billboard, "How many people have I killed in your service?! I swear to God I will spill your blood all over this floor!"

"Wait! No! Please, don't kill me!" He begged in his wizened, cracked little voice. "I promise you so much money if you spare my life!"

With great hesitation, the Nightmare sheathed his blades.

"You shouldn't be here. Why aren't you hiding out at the church with the medical team? Unlike me, you can't give some of these bastards money and they'll leave you alone."

"Strange – I'll kill him. He threw me in here, I didn't-"

"Spare me the sob story. Go away to the medical facility; don't want you dying and not paying me, do we?"

"I didn't throw you in here, by the way. Strange wanted you; he was rambling something about you being of descent. Descent of the Batman, can you believe?" He took his broken glasses off his face and threw them angrily on the ground, shattered like his dreams of government.

"There are many things you do not know about me, Sharpie. I would prefer you to never know them and," he put the blade against his throat again, "If you find them out, I'll kill you."


	8. Kitty Info

Nightmare sat in his cold little apartment, counting out his money. He heard below him the screams of near-dead men and the echoes of insanity as guns and knives were passed out amongst the killers. He smiled.

The world around him had changed and morphed since he left the assassins. People like Bruce Wayne were forcing new gadgets onto the masses, making them drones with limitless potential in their hands yet no sufficient intelligence to wield them. Tobias had previously managed to hack into the computers located somewhere in Wayne Manor before being locked out, and found that the infamous billionaire also provided new equipment upgrades to very secretive blueprints – so secretive that the child prodigy couldn't even get into them. He presumed the bastard was in cohorts with Batman, and had vowed to take the man's life as well after he was finished with his father.

"What a mess you've found yourself in, Selina," the silky voice of Catwoman purred through his broken windows, "No loot and Harv coming after you. Honestly – what kind of cat burglar are you?"

Nightmare pulled his hood up and gently stepped out of his home, stalking her along the rooftops. He was sure that she had noticed him or had heard his light footsteps atop the snow-tipped roofs; she had stopped talking. She simply walked.

And walked. And walked. And walked.

Suddenly, she stopped. Tobias halted. He watched her slender body turn and, slowly, she began to look up to his location.

It was very rare they had an encounter. Selina knew the rumour that the Hooded Nightmare was, in fact, Batman's son, but she had never had the chance to ask him as their relationship was very business-like. The child would offer her some money for trivial information and then, like a ghost, he would disappear and not be seen by her again for some time. But now, as she looked up at the moonlight-tinged outline of Tobias and looked into his gleaming emerald eyes, she knew that it was more important information that he wanted.

"You don't have to sneak up on little ole me," she mewled at him. "I promise I won't bite."

"I don't fear your bite as much as your claws, kitty."

"What're you doing locked up here? I thought you would've been the one they couldn't catch."

"Funny, I thought the same about you."

"Well, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't ratted out by Two-Face. I swear when I get my hands on him I'm going to-" She was cut off abruptly.

"Hm, the scratch you gave him didn't count?" Selina frowned and narrowed her eyes. "Do not think that I haven't been watching what's going on around here. In fact, I've been watching closely. Strange is a very odd man; he mentioned before, when I was in captivity, a "Protocol Ten?"

The Cat walked up to where he sat slowly, moving her hips side-to-side and smiling wickedly. She recalled Batman asking her the same question a few hours ago, and found that the young boy did indeed remind her of the mysterious vigilante she admired.

"Wish I knew handsome," she answered, "I haven't heard anything about it. Whatever it is, we criminals aren't trusted with that information."

The boy flipped down from the rooftop and landed beside her. His eyes flashed with annoyance and he circled her as his mind worked.

"Surely there must be something – anything?"

"No. But you're not the first person to ask me; Batman had the same question and got the same answer. Only, he didn't pay me."

Whilst she said it, Nightmare handed her a bagful of jingling change, and she gave him a satisfied smile. He grimaced at his father's name.

"That insufferable fool. If he hasn't been told, that must mean he is in here for the same reason as you and I, does it not? Seems that Gotham is tired of their 'hero'."

He walked over to the edge of the building they stood on, looking back at Catwoman only to call over his shoulder,

"I do hope that Two-Face doesn't slice you in half. It would be such a shame to waste a valuable source of information."

And with that, the child disappeared down the side of the building. Selina watched after him, wondering if the vigilante Tobias despised so much truly was bound to him by blood.


	9. Memories of a Childhood Passed

Soon after the encounter with Selina, Nightmare had decided to sleep again. He had draped his blanket over him and fallen into unconsciousness almost immediately, and now he found himself in the blissful arms of his mother.

Talia moved her baby in a rocking fashion, singing him a soft lullaby as he felt his cares melt away, and her beautiful face lighting the room with a gentle smile down at her baby. Tobias remembered this clearly, a few months after his second birthday – when he had first heard about his father and begun his deep-seated hatred.

"Batman is a brave man, but he does not realise the potential you possess little one," the assassin whispered down to her son, "He turned from you out of fear of what you would become. But don't worry – the training will start soon and he will see. He will see what you are, little Tobias."

Every detail was perfect in his mind, even his damp room hardly fit for a healthy adult let alone a young child. His mother loved him...so he thought.

He suddenly saw the end of his time with the League. He saw the assassin's attacking him and his grandfather commanding his execution. He saw his mother sitting in the corner, her mouth shut and her eyes watching her child closely. He saw the thousands of days worth of training collapsing before him, and remembered the fear that his sacrifices had now become useless.

"Wake up, Nightmare," the voice echoed in his head, "Wake up. You must be awake during these sessions." He felt his eyes slowly opening to a bright white light and a pristine room. The boy sat on an uncomfortable metal chair, his hands tied and his feet also strapped to the legs of his seat. The bald man in front of him wore funny circular glasses which balanced perfectly on his nose, and a clean white lab coat. His accent was heavy – German maybe? Tobias did not care to know.

"If you do not release me, stranger, then I will have to kill you," he spat. Frothing white foam fell from his lips and landed on the floor; the man was expressionless. But Tobias was sure he saw a glint in the stranger's eyes – a spark that told him his capture was planned.

"Close. My name is Hugo Strange, not stranger. Tell me, Nightmare, what is your name?" The doctor clicked his pen and wrote something down.

"You know my name. I'm Nightmare."

"I'm sure your mother would have named you something far more cheerful," Strange replied in a slow, monotone voice, "Something like, Harry? No? Maybe, Phillip? Still no?" The child shook his head roughly, "Tobias?"

Nightmare bit his lip and glared at the man, hoping his name was all he would be after. He didn't belong in chains like a common animal; he was falling behind in his work.

"You have a fairly uncommon name, Tobias. I have not met many criminals here called it – though you are certainly a 'special' case aren't you?"

"What are you implying, old man?"

"I am merely admiring the fact that you are so young, yet you have seemed to become a rather feared name amongst the people. Not many would utter the words, 'Hooded Nightmare' without looking over their shoulders first. Do you have any family?"

"No one I would die for," he replied quite matter-of-factly. His eyes were darting around the room now to inspect his surroundings. Neat, small piles of documents on Strange's desk, several security cameras, and recording equipment centred on the small coffee table in front of the child. Not much to look at.

"Oh?" Hugo said, "I have heard quite interesting rumours about your family. Little snippets of conversations from the thugs when you were being brought into Arkham City, mostly, I was hoping-"

"I can see what you are going to ask, Strange. I deny that Batman is my father," the words were said with so much venom, so much animosity, that it caused the psychiatrist to smile and write something else down on his sheet of paper.

"Really? How can you be so sure? You are mysterious like he is; the background of your life is unknown. If you are do not have his blood, why do you act so much like the man himself?" Tobias felt himself growing angry. His eyes focused on the man's neck and he narrowed them, imagining a river of blood flowing freely through a freshly-cut wound.

"Do not insult me. I am nothing like that so-called 'hero'. I am a menace – I kill and maim and destroy for a nice little payment," the child answered with a surprising calm, "He saves those that cannot be saved. Look at the Joker; would the villain be alive if normal police found him? Batman causes more pain than he prevents."

Hugo frowned. He had come to a dead-end with Tobias – asking him his mother's origin would be pointless as he knew the child had been taught to never utter a word of the League. The psychiatrist needed the boy to tell him Batman was his father, so that he could convince him to lead his parent to his death.

"I agree with you," He said, "Many people do agree with you. But why do you feel the need, then, to be so different from him? Are you afraid that he will reject you if you go to him? Do you fear your life?"

Tobias stopped. He glared into his advisory's eyes, so fiercely that he thought his head might explode, and said his final words very slowly.

"The Hooded Nightmare fears nothing. Not the dark, not the police, and not the Bat. I am different to him by nature, Strange. And you will not trick me into giving you any more information."

Tobias jumped awake. His blanket scratched against his rough skin and he saw the moon outside, still high, as if he had only been asleep for a few minutes. He heard screaming and crying on the streets below, and the TYGER guards commanding criminals over the radios.

But instead of going and looking for something to do, the boy brought his knees up to his chest and looked out at the broken window. He looked at the twinkling stars winking at him, almost beckoning, and the black sky bearing over Gotham. He had lied to Hugo Strange, he thought as tears trickled down his young face. He had lied to him about his fears.

The Nightmare sometimes was afraid of the dark.


	10. The Nightmare's Over?

Tobias watched as the night sky sparkled above. He was contemplating going to find his father and ending this madness, or returning to his mother and lying back in his grotty little room underneath the city. He felt as if he were low enough to beg for his place back in the League but he knew that his grandfather would never allow it. Ra's would kill him on sight.

He watched as the people below him milled about with their guns and body armour. They looked like they were preparing for something, and the Nightmare had an odd feeling that it might be a massive war between Two-Face and his new employer, the ailing Joker. He smiled whenever he thought of the clown huddled up in that rickety chair, coughing his guts out and having his blood ravaged by toxins. It was funny to watch the killer being killed, by something quite so dear to him.

He remembered the baby he was supposed to protect. How would he do such a thing when Quinn would surely try to make it Joker-incarnate? The days he would spend just stopping that brainless fool from scarring her child would be tiring. She needed to move on from her boyfriend before that baby was born, otherwise he doubted he could watch it 24/7.

"Did you hear about Joker?" Tobias turned his head to look down at an armed inmate talking to his friend, "Boss says he's getting better. He even said that the maniac might live to see another day – can you believe it?! I thought that clown was a goner for sure!"

"Yeah. I was sure that the TITAN would've killed him, but what d'you know? D'you think that Quinn got him the cure from the icebox?"

The boy jumped from his window and started to run along the rooftops. He was going straight to the twisted pair and demanding to know if this altered their arrangement, until he noticed a helicopter circling the sky. He peered at it more closely – it seemed to be readying its guns. Oh...God no!

Nightmare dived just before the first missile was fired. It landed right against his apartment blocks and he saw his home, his only place to rest his head, being blown to smithereens. He screamed and glared up at the chopper, but was forced to dive again as more fired over and over in the land he had lived quite comfortably.

"Nightmare has not been hit, repeat, Nightmare is on the move," he heard a pilot say over his radio. Thanks to his super-human hearing he at least knew that he was a target, and he could at least start running from the bullets and missiles that were aimed at him. He dived and rolled and jumped through the chaos as he heard screaming sounded behind him; men falling like flies and becoming one with the spirits again. They were all going to die in here if they didn't get moving but Tobias was not about to stop and tell them that.

He ran along the roof whilst a glaring white spotlight followed him. The child could hear all the bullets hammering down behind his feet and felt the slight stings of tiny shrapnel hitting the back of his heels and attacking his uncovered hands.

How was this justice? Killing him, when he was simply out to see if his payment would be given? What had he done to anger Strange so much that he would kill everyone else, or was this the infamous Protocol Ten he had been told about? This did not seem like it would be backed by the fools of Gotham!

"Nightmare is too quick for the bullets, requesting extra choppers," the drone-like voice sounded above the hail-fire. He screamed up at them that he would kill them all, but found that his shouts were drowned out by the roar of the helicopter. Just as he turned to check where the helicopter was, he heard the landmarks of Arkham City being fired at and destroyed like common waste, with the lives inside. It would have been perfect if he weren't also running for his right to live.

Smoke covered his face as he thundered on. The noises of dying men and weapons were too loud for him to differentiate. The taste of blood was on his lips because he was biting them so hard and the smell of death surrounded him. He thought he could make it out of the attack but, seconds later, he discovered he was very wrong.

He jumped over one of the buildings and aimed for the next one but, just when he thought he would make it, the chopper fired another missile that hit the ground underneath him and caused the smaller structure to completely fall apart. The explosion forced Tobias upwards and he lost his footing, with his feet flying up into the air and his face heading straight for the solid hard roof. He screamed once more;

"Mother!" Before he hit the concrete and was covered from the waist-down in rubble. He laid there, lifeless, eyes shut, as the helicopter came to inspect its handy-work. The pilot smiled whilst looking down at the child's unmoving body.

"Nightmare has been hit. Repeat, the Hooded Nightmare is dead."


	11. Never Be Afraid, Little One

Nightmare could only see darkness. The icy claws of unconsciousness gripped his body like a vice. Helpless like an infant, but he could still comprehend. And he could still hear.

They did not call him by his name here. They called him 'monster'. Whenever he heard a doctor walk into the room, he'd say the same thing. Today, however, something interesting happened.

Tobias could feel strength returning to him. He wasn't sure how many days had passed or how many weeks had flown by. Maybe he had been lying there for years? The coldness of the snow had still not worn off but now, it seemed, he was beginning to recover. And he was beginning to listen to the conversations the doctors held, especially with the man who had been sitting in his room since his apparent "rescue".

"Mr. Wayne, you should go and get some rest. It doesn't matter who stays here – nobody is expecting him to wake up."

"No. I'm not leaving him alone."

"It's not like you knew him, sir. I still don't fully understand how you came across him. He was in Arkham City; I saw him get put in there myself," the doctor gulped, "I heard he killed over three hundred targets. He's just a boy but...there's something evil about him. Nurses don't even like coming in here and you've stayed here night after night with him. Monster-"

"Tobias. Don't call him monster – his name is not monster – his name is Tobias. And I've told you. He was rescued by someone and left on my doorstep; I came across him when I returned home." The man's voice was deep and somehow, familiar. 'Mr. Wayne' was on Nightmare's hit-list, though now he felt himself weakening and debating with himself whether he should take the billionaire off.

He had never had someone with him before. When he was sick or scared, he had been alone and had learnt to deal with it. Now, someone was waiting for him. They were worried about him. They were hoping he would get better. It was a strange feeling to have someone there when he eventually opened his eyes.

It was hard at first. Glaring light flooded past his eyelids as they slowly wrenched open and he took his first look at the hospital. Blurred images of beeping machines and a blue curtain started to appear and, way in the corner of the room, he saw a slumped man asleep on one lone chair. Black hair, strong body – he was certain he had seen him before but he dared not challenge him, for fear of the grown-up leaving.

Rain splashed against the window. He remembered his mother telling him that the weather was stormy when he was born, with lightning and thunder reigning supreme over the skies. Now the storm didn't give him bad memories; maybe because he was warm and cosy in the pristine white hospital bed. A blanket lay up to his chest and a china plate beside him was decorated with tin-foiled treats and a single, colourful 'get well soon' card. Nightmare read the inside and noted it was from an "Alfred Pennyworth," whom he had never met.

The walls were painted with contorted monkeys and birds. At the very front of the room there was a beautifully portrayed sunset painting, with writing above it saying, "Never be afraid to be yourself."

Funny, when Nightmare was himself they condemned him and called him a murderer. Details, details.

"Excuse me, sir," a voice piped up at the side of the room. Tobias' piercing green eyes glared at the intruder in his room, gently shaking the man who sat so soundly at his side, and growled in anger...or was it fear?

"Don't take him away. Leave him there. He's sleeping, can't you see that, you moron? Leave him there," he snapped angrily. The stranger jumped up and looked at him with a sudden joy dancing in his eyes but, when he moved towards Nightmare, the boy suddenly realised what he was doing. He was almost giving in to the people he hated the most – to the doctors, the lawyers, the world – they were all about to jump on him and lead him away forever. Whatever joy or happiness he could find here, he could find elsewhere. He had to. There was no other way.

He began to dress himself in his old, dark clothes. The men beside him stared for a moment, as if expecting something, but Tobias thought he would show his gratitude by not killing them on this day, and leaving quietly like he had never been there.

"Wait, stay there," the white-coated man barked that stood beside the stranger, "Don't get up. You're too unwell. We're going to get a counsellor in to talk to you, so just sit tight."

"I would love to," the child replied as he put on his hood, "I would love to waste my life just as you are doing. The painting there – it tells me to be myself. So, I'm going to go back and be myself, like it has told me, and I will only grant you one chance to leave me or you shall feel the end of my knives."

Mr. Wayne just sat there, staring, almost as if he were dumb-struck. He had watched Nightmare as he put his hood on and for a moment, seemed saddened. But now his eyes filled with clarity and he shook his head.

"No, little one," he said with a soft but firm voice whilst Tobias tried to open the window, "Come back to bed and rest. You have been on my doorstep for God knows how long; when I found you, you were as cold as ice. It might be sign, little one, my finding you. A sign to change your ways."

Tobias shook his head and, when the window was opened, turned back to the man who had stayed beside him. He remembered his contract with the Joker, and decided quickly to return to Arkham City and learn of what he must do for Harley, now he was sure that the Clown had died. Time had passed, and he had been so close to death. But it was...painful. Leaving someone who seemed to actually care about him...it didn't happen often.

"Thank you for caring. I must return to the prison – Quinn is still there? I must go to her and complete a contract I have been promised," he slipped out into the cold rain and heard the billionaire shout after him. He began to run when he heard glass shatter and doctors run in to try and calm the enraged man now.

Even if Wayne had followed him, he'd never find him. Tobias had covered his tracks well in the rain, and he remained determined to find Quinn. He wasn't sure how close he had come to death.

And he didn't ever want to know.


	12. Does Evil ever Die?

Tobias had returned to the massive prison quickly, and silently. Quinn was in mourning when he arrived, cradling a small Scarface painted like the Joker, and crying bucket-loads of tears. He had never seen someone falling apart so much.

She had changed her clothing. Instead of the appropriate clown-styled outfit, she had traded it in for a black garment and a black widow's veil whilst sporting a dark feather boa on her shoulders. And her hair – it was black as well, but with the tips dyed a blood red; even her makeup was chalk white with large panda-eyes and dark lipstick...she was almost a walking piece of gravestone.

"What do you want?" She barked at the men that lead Tobias to her, "Can't you see I'm busy? What the Hell does a widow have to do to get some privacy around here?!"

A gunshot sounded and Nightmare jumped back. One armed guard collapsed in front of him and the second ran off with his tail between his legs, screaming that he was going to die if he stayed there. Another cry was heard as blood started to pool around the now-dead man.

"I see that Joker has died?" The child said whilst he edged into the room, "I wish I could say that I knew him well."

She glared at him through her veil. He had never seen her so venomous, so unhappy, but he supposed it was predictable since the only reason she had lived was for Joker. Baby Joker-Scarface was returned to an amateur crib and Nightmare looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Looks just like him."

"Don't try and make any jokes. Only Joker could do that around me, and now he's...he's..." her bottom lip quivered slightly, "I'll never be able to laugh at any joke ever again, until Batman is dead and gone. He needs to pay for killing my puddin'."

He nodded before looking outside the large window. He saw Arkham City, burning in its own wretched filth, with only the insane Clownette left to rule it in her maddened grieving state. Even Two-face had disappeared as soon as he could.

"I'll kill the Bat when I can. Right now my only concern is the baby. How is it?" Quinn's lips quivered again and she clutched her stomach like Tobias intended on stealing the little one. Her eyes glared again at him.

"Don't worry about the baby. I am keeping the baby nice and safe, understand?! There's no reason for you to ask about it," she growled angrily. Why would she be so defensive about it? Surely she should be excited about holding a piece of her beloved? How had the assassin managed to offend her?

"That I do not doubt, but I would feel so much more comfortable if you left its care to me," he replied, "After all, it's what your late boyfriend wanted."

Finally, a small smile stretched across her little face. Her running makeup seemed to almost crack around the frown-lines, but she did not seem to care. The room was so dark anyway, no one else would have noticed.

There was a small pause. He wanted to begin telling her his plans for the life growing inside her but he caught himself beforehand – he didn't want her to get too used to his company, since he was in her offspring's employment.

"When can I expect my next payment?"

"Soon. Joker left a plan and enough money to keep you in our...the baby's employment until its old enough. Aren't you just so excited for it to come?! Don't you think it'll be wonderful and perfect and look just like Joker?!"

Nightmare stepped back as her voice slowly rose in pitch. Tears choked her like a thug, and she slowly started to stand on her toes and almost shout that her baby was on its way. Maybe it was a warning to all the doubters? To all the naysayers, and to all the non-believers? Maybe it was a threat that the Clown Prince of Crime would live on?

He was not convinced.


	13. Oh My Joker

Ever since Tobias had returned, Arkham City had been a beehive of activity. Reporters and cameramen had been circulating outside the steel mill's gates like some hideous disease. They were probably hoping to catch a glimpse of grieving Quinn or maybe they were aware of his presence – in any case they were not getting what they wanted. The pair were safely tucked away in the mill with fairly safe barriers.

However, Nightmare was curious. He had not seen a bump on the Clownette. She had no morning sickness and she did not get worn out when on her feet. He doubted that she was one of the few women who showed no symptoms of pregnancy, but he thought maybe stress would have affected them somewhat. The question still niggled in the back of his mind though; was she truly pregnant?

One night, he sat looking out at the people whilst eating his dinner. He saw their cameras even though they were many yards away, and their helicopters flying overhead to try and get a good shot. They would not come near, of course, because they were fearful of Quinn's weapons. Tobias smiled to himself.

"Oh Joker," a hauntingly dark voice said. The child looked up to see the madwoman standing on the roof of the mill, looking up at the many twinkling stars. She had a pretty dark coat draped around her shoulders and a small flickering candle in her hands. For a moment he considered disappearing and leaving her to have some privacy, but he decided against it.

"Joker, I can't tell you how much I miss you. Whenever I need to laugh or smile, I look for you, but you aren't there. You're not killing the men who disappoint you. You're not out in the streets killing the bastards who don't want to join you. You're not fighting Bat-brain. You're gone," her voice choked up slightly, "I can't smile anymore. I can't feel happiness. I want you back to make everything better again...please come back? Please?"

Tobias felt uneasy when she began to cry. He bit into his bread and wondered if he should speak up, but again he decided against it. She would be infuriated if she knew he was listening.

"Will there ever be another one so perfect? There have been millions of people who doubted you, my love, and you always surprised them with laughing gas. I hope one day I can make someone as perfect and as hilarious as you were...even though I never knew your real name..." Her voice trailed off. She picked out a piece of paper from the depths of her coat, and burnt it in the candlelight.

His interests rose suddenly. What had she just burnt?

"Your plans for the future. All of them. I know, somewhere in Heaven my angel, that you will make more use for them than I will. You need them more than I. But remember this – the Bat will burn in Hell for what he did to you. I will kill him. And I don't care if I need the help of a thousand thugs or Nightmare alone – I will kill him in the name of Joker."

Quinn dropped the candle and fell to the floor weeping. A dark cloud gathered almost suddenly and rain began to cascade to the earth, falling on the mourning "widow" and drenching her.

Tobias finished his now-soggy meal quickly and snuck behind a large chimney. He wanted the Clownette to believe that he had just arrived so that she could keep some of her dignity. If she had any at all. But that did not mean he was moved by her agony, by her struggle – Joker dying was nothing but convenient for him.

"Ms. Quinzel, the temperature has dropped significantly, and basic science tells me that it's not good to be out in this weather whilst pregnant," he said as she wept, "Back inside now."

She did not rebuke him for the order, instead choosing to get up and slowly make her way back to her late-boyfriends lair. She stopped beside the child, looking at him deeply for a moment, and he thought that he saw something. Gratefulness? Clarity? Sanity?

"The Batman will pay for what he did to me and my child," she growled as her eyes clouded again, "I don't care how many people stand in my way. He's dead."

Tobias nodded and directed her back inside. His clothes were beginning to feel heavy with rain.

"For now, my only concern is for the job at hand. But, if you think that revenge will fuel your murder-plot, you are sadly mistaken. I have far more rage and anger at him," he said, "And to this day, my blades have not met his heart."

"I will murder him in the name of Joker."

"And I will murder him for the bruises he has left."


	14. Memories I can't Escape

Tobias was having another memory-dream. This one, however, focused entirely on a session that he had been dragged into by Strange, and he did not see why he remembered it so clearly. Maybe because his mad guards had held a gun to his head and threatened his life if he did not comply, or maybe because he tried to go into detail about his unknown past. Either way, he did not fully care for the memory.

"Good evening, Tobias," the thinly accented voice of Hugo Strange droned, "I trust you found the temporary accommodation satisfactory?"

"It was bearable," Nightmare replied bluntly as he admired the metallic machines and piles of documents, "However I do wish that you wouldn't try and put inmates in my room. They make such a mess when I pull their guts out."

"Yes, I heard about that...little incident. Tell me, Tobias, why do you feel the need to kill?"

"Why does the sun rise every morning? Why do the birds sing when they're attracting mates? Simple – it's what they're designed to do. They were born and made to do these things, like I was."

"So, you feel that you have been born to kill innocent people? What drives you to fulfil that purpose? Do you feel lost, angry, and alone when you do it?"

Nightmare looked down at the ground when Strange began to probe. Why was the madman so interested in learning about the child? The questions he asked seemed to have some deeper meaning, some sort of higher purpose. There was no way he would ever tell the secrets of the League, despite what they had done to him.

"I feel as I do," he answered with his eyes glinting, "I feel that I'm cleaning up unfinished business for someone...a cleaner. That's all I am really. Think about it; all the people I kill have had a hit put on their heads, and when I eliminate them, the city is just a little bit cleaner."

Hugo seemed frustrated at Tobias' answer. He had not reacted in the way he was supposed to – children were often complex and irritating to unravel at the best of times, let alone when crucial information was needed. Strange began to write something down on his pad, and left the child alone for a moment to look at his surroundings.

It was all very uninteresting. Machines that he had seen and deprogrammed before, and scattered documents on the metallic tables. There was also a half-drunk cup of coffee sitting on a small coaster next to the psychologist, which had a disgusting smell of cinnamon floating around the room.

"We must press on," he eventually disrupted the stillness of the air, "Have you ever felt that the world is against you, young one? That everyone is just waiting for you to drop dead, plotting the victory celebration at your demise?"

"No more than they're plotting yours."

"I am going to be regarded as a hero someday. However, you are always going to be hated, Tobias. The people are never going to cry at your death. They're going to be waiting for the day that 'the Hooded Nightmare' is nothing but a faint, distant memory. Eventually, they will lose their fear for you, and you will become as obsolete as every other so-called supervillains in my facility. Does that not anger you?"

"I'm not here to make history Strange. You – you're trying to keep the filth of Gotham enclosed by one wall. What happens when that wall falls? When the guards drop dead and the criminals gather arms? I'll be safely tucked away in my hiding spots, yet you're going to be right in the spotlight. 'The failure of Arkham City' – it's only a matter of time until you find the end, Strange."

The German stroked his beard and glared past his circular spectacles. He had a very funny appearance, which made him less threatening than he was probably aiming for, and made Tobias smile whenever he saw him.

"What makes you think the wall will fall?"

"The walls always fall. The USSR had a wall as well; the Berlin wall, set up to separate the Communist and the Capitalist sides. Sure, it kept them contained for a while and the trouble makers were shot," he mimicked a rifle shooting as he spoke, "But eventually, that wall came down. The people revolted and ran ahead, bashing it down with all their force. Yes, that may be because the guards weren't shooting them, but what makes you think your guards will listen forever? You're going to be a dead man one day Strange, and I hope I'm going to be the one who makes you that way."

"I have my ways to make sure you criminals are kept contained. Protocol Ten will make sure everyone in Gotham is safe from your disease."

He stood up and began to usher his guards in. They pointed large guns at his head and trained their expertly-skilled eyes on him, as if he were about to jump up and attempt to kill them all.

"Until I get the answers I need, young one," Strange growled, "You are no longer useful to me. Now you are going to be my new inmate at Arkham City – the last place you are going to see alive."

Tobias awoke with a start. He could feel the icy cold sting on winter on his face, since he slept outside for home-comfort, and he could hear the trills of the reporters far off in the distance. How long had he been asleep? Had something happened whilst he was resting?

The weight of his responsibility made him fearful of the future.


	15. Broken Dreams, Empty Promises

**Tobias' Journal; -**

Success! I've found a scrap of paper! Now I can write down some of my thoughts and feelings, before I throw it into the sea. Too much evidence can be used against me.

I've been having those thoughts again. Sometimes when I gaze down at the people playing in the street, or buying their groceries and going home, I feel a pang of longing. I feel as though that it where I'm supposed to be. It makes me want to go to my father and become a sidekick, just for that sense of normality.

Other times I pity them. I condemn them to a life riddled with unfair treatment and eventual death. At least in this life I can look myself in the eyes and say, 'this is the life I want. I am independent. I do not rely on the government for housing and I do not rely on others for my survival.'

That would make me convinced, if only I could look at myself. I have no quarrel with killing people for the name of honour and dignity. So why do I see a monster when I look at my reflection? Why do I see a creature festering in the depths of my eyes? Am I unwell?

The people who incarcerate me tell me I am. What do they know about health? If it weren't for their jobs they would be staring at their gadgets and glaring phone screens every day, non-stop. They would be mindless zombies, created by that...by that Mr. Wayne. He took care of me when I was unconscious, but I don't know if he is truly a villain or not.

He is in cohorts with my father. Batman wanted to be a true man to me and keep me safe from harm. What he doesn't understand is the harm comes from him – I spend so much of my life trying to keep myself away from him. I never want to go into another prison where they're just going to electrocute and lobotomise me. Does he really want an emotionless sack for a son?

It's hardly like I'm full of emotion right now. I try my best to stare past the stupid thoughts and feelings that plague my sight, although sometimes they envelope me and refuse to let me go. Maybe I belong in Arkham City. I wonder if they're ever going to rebuild it and put a less sadistic mind behind its control. They'd definitely lock me and the mad woman up before anyone else.

What is my father doing right now? Is he playing with another child? Does he have a different family? Does he really want me to join it, or does he just want me to follow him and get pushed in another prison? I want to have a father. I want to have a family.

I could imagine it. If Mr. Wayne was my parent, and my mother was with him instead, I would have a better life. The name of Nightmare would not exist. In the mornings I would come downstairs to my mother, probably heavy with a baby brother or sister, and my father sitting in a large room. It would have a crackling fire on one side of the room and a butler on the other waiting for my father's orders. It would be blissful to sit on his lap and doze off on a stormy afternoon.

God, I've got to remember who I am. I am the Hooded Nightmare – a villain and a menace to society – not some prissy little rich boy. I am a genius, a legend, a devastator...but I want to be someone else. I want to be a child once more.

I hope no one would ever find these entries. Not that they ever would. Maybe it would be a better idea if they did? I will never know.

I don't think I can go on for much longer.


	16. Lies and Slander

Quinn lay in her lair that night, weeping as usual. After Tobias had rid himself of the evidence he found her there. He saw her despairing face and watched her body twist in a seemingly endless agony. What was she crying about? Joker might have been dead but she still had his child inside of her...or did she? He crept through the window to get a closer look.

Around her were dozens of turquoise-tipped sticks. She sobbing into one as if it were about to disappear and take her with it, which perked Nightmare's interests a lot. He moved closer on his silent feet, leaning down to see that they were pregnancy tests scattered around her.

Negative pregnancy tests. The Clownette was not expecting. She had fooled him.

"Not another wrong test!" She squealed, "Not another one! Com' on Joker, sweetie; the first couple of times were funny! Let me get the right result this time puddin'! Our baby is going to get worried if you don't let me know it's getting ready to come out!"

She seemed so ashamed and distraught that, for a second, the child considered leaving her alone to mourn. Her insane mind was convinced that Joker controlled her pregnancy tests, like he was still in charge of her life and everything in it.

But he decided to stay until she had stopped crying a bit. He wanted to know when he would get the payment he deserved, and then he would be out of Arkham City to cause mayhem wherever he pleased. Or maybe he would just go and die somewhere out in the vast unknown...

"Joker! Joker! Please, my sleeping angel – you sent someone to take care of the baby! You sent that Bat-baby, and now you're not even letting me see that I have my little one? Do you want me to kill Nightmare and look after our baby by myself?!" She screamed up to the ceiling as she rose to her feet, "I'll do it if you want! I'll kill him! Just send me a sign and I'll kill him!"

A maniacal laugh sounded in the shadowed corner. The madwoman turned and clutched her empty womb, staring at it with a burning intensity.

"You think you can kill me?" Tobias muttered. He stood up and un-sheathed his blades. "Your late bastard hired me for a reason. He saw my potential, my use, and you? You see nothing but the blindness that is grief. We are _death,_ my dear. We are suspended between two worlds, aching for a relief that seldom seems to come. Pray no longer for the Joker – instead pray to the spirits. They are in control of your life now, you harlot. Let your baby die; it's suffered a far lesser evil than you."

She seemed to be lost for words at first. Her delicate hands rose to her face in shock and disbelief as she saw her plan fall to ash in front of her. What kind of life could she provide a baby she was so sure about, without the aid of the assassin? The Clownette was so stunned that she didn't even try to rebuke him.

"Don't leave me. I can't handle his world on my own. He was so good with the people, they all feared him. Now I can't even carry his precious little baby in my stomach for nine months. Please don't leave me!"

"Don't be a ridiculous fool. You have threatened to kill me in the name of your bastard. Do you expect me to fall to your cries? I'll kill you before I do that."

"I'll give you more money! I'll kill more men! I'll...I'll let you start your own plans within the mill, using my henchmen! Anything to keep my Joker happy!" She cried so loudly that he was sure the window would crack and fall apart.

The idea of henchmen...enticed him. He thought about all of the things and the plans he could put into motion with the extra man-power. He smiled and sheathed his blades which dragged on the floor behind him.

"Fine. I'll let you live and I'll remain here for the moment. I'm going to start my own plans," he said, "I'll be trapping the Batman soon, and I'm using you to start them. Be afraid Quinn."

As he moved away she stared after him, before he turned and let his emerald eyes glint in the soft moonlight.

"Joker was nothing compared to me."


	17. Debt Erased

Tobias walked around the grounds after his encounter. He could hear the chats between henchmen, and the babbling of reporters in the distance, but he did not care to listen. The child was more interested in watching the moon rake itself across the black sky and wonder how long he would be able to look at it. Death always followed his heels when he went out – even when he went for an innocent walk. The nights he spent alone were always grim.

"That damn Batman!" He heard a voice say in a very proper accent, "He thinks he can figure me out? He thinks he can outsmart the Riddler? When I get my hands on his neck I swear I'll-"

Nightmare flipped over the grey, dirty wall and landed expertly in front of the voice. The Riddler jumped backwards, letting out a yelp, as the torn posters and litter flew around the assassin like some sort of artificial tornado.

The criminal wasn't much to look at. A skinny frame barely covered by skin-tight green clothing, hollow cheek bones and lifeless emerald eyes, in addition to his rusty red hair. He looked more like a bad excuse for a child's entertainer than anything else. His pasty white skin contrasted sharply with the black background.

"I think you owe me payment Riddle-boy," he growled in a low menacing voice whilst the hood hid his eyes, "I don't want to have to kill you and rob the funds off your lifeless body. Just hand me over the money and you can be on your way."

The super-criminal started to dance about in some weird fashion, pointing at his little outfit dotted with black question marks, "You'll have your money when I have my bat! That's my offer, how about that?"

"You don't want to cross me skinny."

"Why not? Why not? You're just a little kid – I know your story and I've read the reviews of the movie. Apparently you're not being played by a believable actor, but who could believe such a little boy is capable of so much violence and death?" He put his hands on the child's shoulders with an almost fatherly nature. Nightmare narrowed his eyes.

"I swear to the spirits, if you're speaking in riddles again I'm going to slice your neck where you stand. What the Hell are you talking about?"

"The movie! You know; the one they're making about your life? Well...what they know about it," the flamboyant villain replied, "Do you not understand? Do you need me to repeat it for you? It's about your love for violence and your apparent need to kill the Batman. Not unlike the rest of us but – ARGH!"

Nightmare held the Riddler against the grimy wall. He could see a glint of fear in the madman's eyes, something that told him how scared the delinquent truly was.

"If you want to walk out of here alive, tell me exactly what this film is and exactly where these disgusting pigs are watching it," the boy was panicking. He didn't want anyone watching a film and thinking they were an expert on him, trying to tell him how he truly felt about things.

"Erase the debt and I'll agree."

For a moment Tobias considered slashing his throat but reluctantly agreed to let him go, debt-free, if he was told where the film was being broadcast and exactly what security would be there.

"Ah! Brilliant! I can finally walk without looking over my shoulder!" E. Nigma exclaimed, "The film highlights the cruel beatings your mother gave you and the absence of your father. Batman illegitimately fathered you on a drunken night out and your mother, too young to look after a child with any sort of patience, started to turn you evil by the age of five. By the end of the film, I hear you eventually go home with your father, hand-in-hand, off to spread the good word of the vigilante. Don't you just love happy endings?"

The assassin released the man and turned from him, looking down at the floor. How could someone make such a sick twisted ending? How could something so bitter make it to the big screens? He hated the media and this was the reason why.

"When does my father find me?"

"When you break down crying after killing a very important high-end client," the criminal stepped forward before putting a hand on the child, "I know how you feel, Nightmare. I've had many case studies on me in psychology classes. I know how it feels when people think they understand you...and they just don't."

For a fleeting second, the child suddenly relaxed. He felt the warm feeling of 'friendship' hugging his heart and rising up softly in his chest. Why would he feel this when the Riddler, of all people, spoke to him?

"I do understand you Riddle-boy," he growled as he brushed his hand off, "You're a man driven by obsessive compulsive need for attention, and you crave to be the most intelligent. You want to beat the World's Greatest Detective, don't you? You'll never do it."

The Riddler watched with a sad face whilst the child started to walk away. He twirled his black cane expertly and called out, "Are you going after the film? Gotham Cinema!"

"Oh I'm going," he replied, "It's one of my plans. I've recently come into a little...extra funding and equipment. But you are going to be there too." He turned and glinted his eyes in the soft moonlight, "You're going to be there, or I'm going to kill you."

"I've got a date with hostages already but I guess I could cancel to meet the famous little madman," he smirked.

"And Riddler," Tobias said before flipping up onto the wall, "Don't be late."

With that the child disappeared. The criminal stared in almost disbelief – had he just spoken to the assassin with a debt over his head, and managed to talk his way out of it? How excellent! And now he only had to sneak out of Arkham City to attend a movie premiere. Perfect!


	18. Warning Ages 10 and Up

Nightmare managed to get out of Arkham City easily. With no guards, it was a simple matter of sneaking around the walls and disappearing into the faceless masses behind them. Things were always so much more fun when the escapes were less complicated.

The cinema was packed with people. Tobias had never seen so many lights, so many pointless people wearing fancy clothes or so many flash cars driving about with an undeserved sense of pride. From where he sat - just above the entrance hidden in the shadows – he could see the celebrities milling about talking to their 'fans'. More like people looking for a hint of self-worth.

He looked slightly underneath his hood to see a polished limo pulling up. A scoff escaped his lips quietly; yet another person with a lashing of fame, thinking they were God's gift to earth. How many pointless lives would he see today? Too many to restore his faith in humanity. If that was even possible.

The car door was opened by an elderly yet sophisticated man. He had greying hair and decent sized glasses, in addition to pristine black formal wear with a...refined atmosphere. He was definitely someone that Tobias would want to converse with. At least for a little while.

Suddenly the child felt his jaw drop. A person had stepped out of the limo, wearing a beautifully pressed yet slightly creased suit whilst running his hand through thick dark hair, and the assassin instantly recognised him as Bruce Wayne. The suave businessman had a lovely woman hanging onto his arm like some sort of handbag as he glided down the red carpet and waved at the screaming masses around them. Why on earth would he be at this God-awful film? What reason could he possibly have for wanting to see it? And why would he be treated like such a wonderful addition to the human race? He was different from everyone else...but so was the boy...

He knew that they were separately different. Wayne supplied them with gadgets and goods whilst Nightmare stalked them in their safest of places. The good-looking man was a genius that used his gifts to help those around him, and the silent killer was a genius who used his mind for mayhem and injustice. They were so different in their approaches that he was often reminded of Batman even though he was grateful to the billionaire and despised his father.

The people were soon piled into the cinema and Tobias flipped down into it. His hood was brought up as he gently snuck past the staff to enter the viewing room. Everyone had got into their seats which allowed him to quickly jump on to an over-hanging balcony. There was a comfortable lone seat made of stiff wood that he could sit in and a discarded box of popcorn accompanied by a half-full cup of flat fizzy drink. The boy sipped in delicately while thinking; when would that infernal Riddler turn up?

Mr. Wayne stood up before the film could start. Two well-equipped people ran out from the shadows and set up a long thin microphone stand so he could address the crowd. His voice was deep yet also strangely calming.

"Hello everyone, thank you for coming to watch this film. Unfortunately, the events we're about to see are entirely fictional – nothing like this has happened for the young Hooded Nightmare," he said, "But I remain convinced that he is simply a child that needs attention and love. No one is inherently evil, are they? We see him as a stalking killer, a violent beast, although we don't know anything about him. My charity will provide him with a new chance if he is captured and attempts rehabilitation, which also expands to other child criminals that have no chance otherwise. Please donate to, 'New Worlds,' for the good of our futures. No child left behind."

He could hear the groans of people below. They just wanted to mindlessly watch a film and not be bothered about who it was based off; Tobias felt oddly touched. The billionaire cared enough to make a whole foundation dedicated to a change in society, one that would give him and others like him a chance to function in the normal world.

However he would never go for it. The calling on the streets was too great for him. The thrill of the kill was too much and he just wouldn't feel right having a warm cosy bed to sleep in every night. Harsh stone roof's and empty abandoned flats were usually his places of rest – there just was no way he could change that.

The film was mediocre at best. The actor that played him, a Mr. Blaine Taylor, was a blonde childish beauty who wore a completely discoloured hood and ragged clothes. The writers didn't even have Tobias' intelligent language down, simply words like, "'Ite," and, "Tell ya boys that if they come near me again, Imma stab they ass." What kind of speech did they imagine he had?!

When the monstrosity was finally over he saw a glint of green from the corner of his eye. Riddler was sitting next to an unaware movie-goer and chomping his way through several bags of sweets along with a large carton of popcorn. How could he fill his body with so much? Even the starved boy couldn't stomach the thought of it, let alone the actual food itself.

People started to get up as the credits rolled. Nightmare took this opportunity to flip over the banister and land directly in front of the film, just as the lights began to slowly turn on. The crowd froze for a moment when they realised who it was; the din died down and the noises of movement stilled. Just his presence made it seem like the black felt walls were being sucked of all their colour and the red paint seemed drained of all its vibrancy.

"What a touching, heartfelt film!" He mused with a voice as loud as thunder, "A lovely little fairytale to get you in the right mood for bed. What could possibly make that movie better? What if it was _true? _Would that make it better?"

The Riddler also got up from his seat although he made a less than spectacular entrance. He seemed to rival the child's terrifying nature however as he stood there in silence and gazed down calmly.

"You people think you know me. You people think you understand. You never have and you never will!" Tobias walked next to the green villain and smiled at him, as if they felt a connection through their animalistic nature, "I kill for sport, for survival and for comfort. Everyone here is simply another target. Another body to add to my kill-count. Another soul that, eventually, will be forgotten and replaced by millions of others. Disgusting races; you see yourselves as special and yet all you do is flutter about in a fancy dress while people discuss how fat you look. Tell me why you feel important."

The people were completely silent. It was like a realisation had dawned on them although Nightmare knew they just didn't want to be killed. Riddler laughed at them all.

"Countless fools, child. Why do you bother wasting your brilliant mind on their hapless faces? You and I are Kings of this domain," he told him whilst the child circled around him slowly. He held his cane tightly in crossed arms before tipping his hat slightly forward on his head.

Mr. Wayne seemed visibly upset at the sight of this. He stared at first the leprechaun like villain and then the small assassin beside him – did he think they were friends?

"Probably so my clever friend. Shall we make our exit now? They must know that if this film leaves this hall, then I will kill everyone I see here. I have a thing for remembering every single face I see."

"A mysterious exit? Ooo it's an ending to a scary storybook! Do you need a distraction little killer or do you want to disappear as you normally do?"

Riddler looked smug for a moment, waiting for his answer, until he realised that there was no reply. He turned to see Nightmare had vanished without a trace even though all eyes had been on him, and that he was now all alone in a room full of people that wanted him locked up. It was a good thing he had come prepared!

"Riddle me this; what's a genius covered in smoke called?" He asked the slowly angering crowd as he pulled out a small circular ball, "Give up? It's Riddler!"

Smoke enveloped the now bright theatre when the green-man threw the object on the floor. By the time it was cleared and the others regained their senses enough to look at the stage, he was gone from sight. Probably escaped through the door during the commotion, it would be like him to not hang about. Bruce ran up to the stage, eyes searching for a trace of Nightmare while he knew in his head the child was gone. He wouldn't see him again until he decided to show himself.

And he could never know when that was.


	19. Tobias Wayne

Bruce spent the next few days pouring over his computer. The cave seemed even creepier when he entered it – even more cold – but he ignored the feeling as he made his way to the supercomputer. Anything he could find out about his son was crucial these days because, whenever he saw him, the child seemed even more deranged and bent on mayhem. Was he breaking apart? Was he becoming evil? Were the streets changing his offspring before he had a chance to save him?

Alfred came in every now and again with food. He urged his master to feed himself although he was usually met by a wall of resistance or a simple grunt of displeasure. The butler could see the millions of papers scrawled around the tables whenever he went there; the information on Tobias were few and far spread out among various databases but the vigilante seemed Hell-bent on finding it. Whenever he found something new he seemed to get giddy with joy before scribbling it down and returning to his previous state. It would take the arrival of his boy to make him pull away from this place.

Tim noticed it as well. He spent most of his time studying or annoying the kids in town but he felt the change of mood when he was around Bruce. Anger, depression, bitterness – it was like the worst cocktail in the world in emotion's terms.

One night, as they all settled down to dinner, the man made a surprise appearance from his workplace. Showered and shaved, he looked a lot better than he had hunched over that computer with his eyes glued to the screen; he seemed happier to be sitting with his friends enjoying a home cooked meal as well. God knows how long he could survive on that junk food he ate.

"Master Wayne, I trust that you like the meal? I took special care preparing it when I found you were joining us," Alfred said whilst the billionaire ate. He grunted in reply, though out of disinterest or a full mouth he did not know.

"When are you planning to come back to earth then, Bruce?" Tim asked suddenly before taking a large bite of chicken, "I'm starting to miss you yelling at me all the time."

Wayne stopped eating. He ran his hand through his thick dark hair, his eyes locked onto the young man and a thought running through his head.

"Tim, do you remember Talia?" He asked. The boy nodded. "You must remember my son then, Tobias."

"Nightmare? Yeah, I've heard the story," Drake replied cautiously. Why was he talking about this? It was mostly a no-go area for them; even the faithful butler liked to steer clear of that subject.

"There are very few accounts on him and even fewer arrests. It has been calculated that he has killed hundreds of people, maybe even more than Zsasz, and I have barely been able to see his face. Do you want to know why I am so desperate just to get a glimpse of my son's life?"

Tim shook his head again though he knew the answer.

"Because I want to give him a better one. I want to drag him away from that world he lives in, and give him a home and a family. Talia said that the blood-lust in him was far too great for me to quell in him – that he was evil to the core – but I don't think so."

He stood up before moving away from the dinner. He found his appetite had suddenly vanished and, as he stared out at the black sky pouring down with rain outside, his mind turned to the child.

"I look out on days like this and can't help but think, 'Stay safe.' My little boy is out there somewhere, I don't know where, probably freezing cold and wet. Maybe he's got enough food, maybe he hasn't. Maybe he's lying dead right now and I'll just never know. He'll just disappear, and I will find myself waiting for him to conjure back up again like he normally does," he sighed whilst pressing his hand against the glass, the other one behind his back. His head bent down in seeming pain when he thought about Tobias, "He doesn't have a last name. I always like to think he'd take mine. Tobias Wayne. Dad and Mum would probably be proud that my son was such a clever boy, such a survivor, despite his fickle past. He'd have to go to a mental hospital to get better, and then maybe prison where he might never come out again; at least I'd know where he was though."

Alfred gave Tim a look of annoyance. Why did the young man have to bring this up? It only ever saddened his master and caused bad memories to rise up. Bruce was mostly talking to himself now.

"He wouldn't like it in prison, I can tell. Ever have those feelings where you just know something? Yeah, he'd want his freedom, but everyone's got to be responsible for their actions. I'd visit him every day even when he asked me not to. It would be his choice to talk to me or not, just so long as I could see him. I don't know how to be a dad and I'd like to learn with him, though he's too grown up now for me to learn much. He'd be fluttering off to college before I had a chance to even find out his favourite foods. Life is so cruel to him, so cruel to me, to keep us separated when I know I can give him a proper life."

"Sir, I think you-"

"There would be birthday parties, toys, games, and laughter. The silence of the streets...he would forget about them if I had my way. We'd replace the memory of Nightmare with the memories of Tobias Wayne. People would forget about Batman's killer son, but they'd rejoice in a new Wayne heir. Is he right Alfred? Am I just steering sheep?"

Pennyworth was suddenly put on the spot. He felt his master's eyes bore into him although his sophisticated manner did not waver in his speech.

"I think Tobias is a very disturbed little boy who needs his father," he answered honestly, "I think he's terrified out there and he doesn't realise it. But do not fret sir – we know that he belongs with you and we will welcome him with open arms when he arrives home."

"He likes Bruce Wayne more than he likes Batman."

"It's a good thing they're very similar men then," the butler began to pick up his master's plate and clear away his dinner. Tim rolled his eyes before jumping up to his room.

Bruce turned around. He loved Tim in his own way; however he couldn't help thinking that the man would never welcome his son into the mansion. He would persecute him...even though that was probably the right thing to do.

"I'm going back downstairs. I've got to find him. Goodnight Alfred."


	20. Invites

Nightmare sat quietly eating his dinner. In the distance he could hear Harley weeping to herself and cursing God for the loss of her child, but he was not interested in that. He had formulated a plan to capture his father and was putting the finishing touches on it as the rain poured down over his head. Why was it whenever the madwoman cried the sky seemed to open? He was tempted to plug her mouth up.

Outside, the reporters still circled like vultures. There was the itching to go and slaughter them all for their nosiness, although he managed to keep himself under control with thoughts of their anger once the Batman was dead. The news channels would be clogged as they received pictures of lifeless, possibly cut up vigilante body, sent to them by an anonymous little boy who was so delighted to see his life's work finished.

Suddenly, two white letters were dropped beside him. He glanced up to see a Harley thug standing there, looking rather gormless whilst staring at the child, and told him they got it when doing their patrols. It was addressed directly to him with his name written in curly writing. Nightmare sighed – another assassination contract. Two of them. Perfect; it was not like he had more important things on his mind right now.

The first letter, however, sparked his interest more than the second. Whilst both of them were of good quality and seemed to be handled with extra special care, this one had a special seal on it and was marked with his real name. _Tobias. _Who knew his real name? What sick twisted person had written him a letter using his real name? Whoever it was, they didn't know his last one. He would have been more impressed if it was followed by _al Ghul._

He opened the other one first. It was very simple, very basic; just another contract written out by a seemingly young man desperate for revenge. The letter read;

_Hooded Nightmare – I want to hire your services. I have heard that you are...good. Good at getting rid of people I mean. Bad people. Well, not bad. Any people. But I need you to get rid of a very bad man right now, even though that might not be your kind of job. I will give you an even bigger payment than you require if he is killed where he works – it'll make a much bigger impact that way!_

The next part of the letter was simply instructions. He wanted a priest killed in a church which caused a slight moral objection in Tobias, though he soon brushed it away with a thought of the payment. Maybe he would make enough to afford a better apartment.

He opened the next letter eagerly. He hoped it would be a letter from a fan, someone who understood why he did all these things or at least appreciated his unique skills, but what he found in the letter was more...satisfying, albeit a little suspicious and surprising. He smiled to himself when reading it.

_Dear Tobias; Christmas is coming soon. The season of giving, they call it, although I have not much to give anyone but my gadgets and other services. This year however I would like to extend myself to have a far more festive Christmas...and I would like to extend a welcome to my home for you._

_I do not know if you will ever get this message. I suppose I might just be writing this for my own comfort, to let myself know that I've tried. I want you to know that this visit and possible stay will be completely confidential, on a need-to-know basis that will not range to anyone other than my butler and my current student lodger. I just wanted you to know that there is a place out there for you; there is a place in my home for you to stay if you want to._

_Christmas is a lovely time filled with presents and family. You would know that, obviously, if the reports of your IQ are true. Though I cannot be sure if you know exactly what the season brings with it, so I would like to offer you a firsthand experience before the time rolls over. Arrive when you want to, or don't, but I will be waiting for you._

_Wayne Manor will always have its door open to you._

Bruce Wayne was making an offer to him. He wanted the child to come and have a brief stay over the holidays, although why was the question buzzing in his advanced mind. What possible reason could the billionaire have for wanting him in his home? The only answer he could come up with was that he wanted the assassin in a vulnerable unfamiliar place so that he could get him arrested.

Tobias tucked the letter away in his cloak. There was no point in letting such sentiment go to waste, even if the reason behind it was so sinister. It was the only invite to anything the child had ever received and he wanted to keep it close to his heart, just in case he needed a smile sometime in the future. The crisp snow-white paper crackled as he placed it in a small pocket.

Maybe it would not be so bad to get arrested again? He could always risk going to the place and seeing the man once more – it seemed he was the only one that cared anything for him. His father he despised with all his heart, his mother abandoned him and was content to live her life without his memory, and he had no other family apart from his crazed grandfather. And he was the whole reason Tobias was alone now! It would not be so bad to pretend he had a family for once...just for a little while...

He shook his head in frustration when Harley called his name. He turned to see the Clownette wiping away some running mascara and clutching one of her hips in some strange pose. The child rolled his eyes.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I need that plan you were coming up with, like, yesterday. Mister J would be furious if he knew that we were just lying around here."

"I haven't been-"

"Just get me the plans. Come on, Gothan's not going to take over itself."


	21. He does not Care

Nightmare crept along the support beam. Below him was a mass service, catering to at least three hundred people, whilst his target preached at the altar like some self-important God. He wore big golden robes that draped past his legs and an odd purple scarf thing around his neck – maybe the idea of wearing all those luxuries made it easier to talk against them? Tobias thought this was very contradicting. Although, he couldn't say he was a boy of God, as he viewed religion to be particularly obsolete.

"And so my people, do we really need material objects such as these?" He called. The child crept further towards him, his blades unsheathed and aimed for soft neck skin.

"No!"

"Exactly! We must cast aside the shackles of our superficial world! We must take the word of God through all the punishment that comes for us, and not rely on the greed of today! When your phone breaks, when your television smashes, when the glass is shattered; what then shall you do?! Turn to them, or turn to God?!"

His speech was met by a rally of cheers. As if they were sheep the people around him started to cheer, perhaps glad that there was a shepherd in their life. It sickened the assassin to watch.

"Material objects are the only things we can hold forever," he growled in his deepest voice, "Even when they break, their shape and sizes do not leave us. People can come and go as they please, God can become angry with us and cast our souls down into a pit of eternal fire – the materials do not leave us."

They looked up to see him hidden in the shadows, covering his face in the familiar shawl hood as he stared into the pews. Expressions transformed around him before the worshippers fought over who would get to flee first. Wasn't that ironic? So much faith in God, if they were fighting for their pathetic little lives.

"You! Demon! Why have you dared to enter this holy place? Does the Devil speak through you now?!" His target was an elderly man with a face weathered by a thousand sunny days and dull grey eyes. They seemed to stare into Tobias' very soul when he looked into them; however he was not afraid to see the creature that festered within him anymore. After many years battling it back, he was just glad to let it take over and grant him some rest.

"The Devil? Maybe he does! He must've spoken through you too, at some point Priest," Nightmare replied whilst flipping down to the wooden altar, "You cannot count yourself a Holy man if you have never been tempted by unholy gifts."

"Shut your mouth!"

"I wish I could. I wish that God had been there for me, when I lay in agony through a hundred trials. I wish that He saw my suffering and rewarded me with his promised land, so that I might too find peace amongst the most heavenly of angels. But He didn't. He left me to suffer there alone and instead favoured to look after other brats," the child moved forward with his blade outstretched. He could see the dangling skin clearly now as the razor-sharp edge grazed it slightly.

For a moment, the Priest seemed content to stare at him. No words passed his chapped lips whilst the assassin watched him; was he stupid or something? He was staring death straight in the face...and all he could do was keep silent.

"Why do you stay silent? Answer me, before I rip your innards out!"

"You're going to do that anyway, my son," his voice suddenly turned calm, "I have accepted my fate. God will take me into His divine arms and give me the love I so desperately crave. You seem to have lost your way."

"Be silent, fool."

"You wanted me to talk, now you tell me to stop. I hope you understand that He has a great plan for you despite what you might think – you will be loved in the next life, and you are loved in this one as well."

Everything suddenly went in slow motion. Nightmare felt his confidence falter for a moment, his mind wondering why this man was thought of so cruel, until he regained his senses and dragged his knife through his milky white skin. Blood spurted forward which drenched the wooden altar in front of them but Tobias didn't care; he made the kill and his karma would take it on its own head.

As the blood pooled around him, he started to gather up the more valuable items and left some well-placed footsteps in the red liquid. But the question still niggled in his mind.

_Who would love an assassin?_


	22. Heart Song

Tobias was sitting on his perch, pondering what the Priest told him. He was not a believer in God – instead he followed the beliefs he was given by his mother – but the prospect of love no matter what he did was intriguing. Unconditional, unquestionable, binding; it was like a cocktail of all the things he enjoyed most of all, wrapped up in a three minute conversation with a man he killed. Fascinating.

"So, we can do what the Batman did to us by trapping him in my brand new shrine," Harley gushed as she plotted graphs on blueprints, "I think puddin' would have been so proud to see this, and all the things I'm going to do for him. I didn't need that stupid old Freeze to help me out, did I? 'Course I didn't, I'm Harley Quinn!"

She seemed so unsure of herself but Nightmare didn't care. He was far too busy strumming gently on an old guitar one of the men retrieved to worry about her, especially since now she did not have a young baby inside her. When the Clownette finally realised this she stopped in her tracks and began to listen to his surprisingly soft singing voice, somehow calmed by the strange lulling music.

"_Somehow, I fail to believe. The Devil, He seeks for me. When I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." _He began gently, "_But of course he pays no heed, to a deadly boy's young needs. He instead decides my fate, and condemns my soul to hate. Was it my fault? Am I to blame? Of course nothing matters; it's all the same. I blame you, mother my dear, for making me fall off sanity, listening to your own profanity I was so young, though you still didn't care. You were never there."_

Emotion started to flow from his thin pink lips. It was like a blanket, cloaking all that surrounded the area in a thick choking upset, which caused Harley to become slightly saddened for the child. What kinds of horrors did he have to face when not in the limelight? What had caused him to become like this, a killer born only to wreak havoc?

"_You, my father, you hated me on sight didn't you? I lived in fear of your return, hoping that for that day I yearned, but it seemed the world hated me too. I never got to see you until it was too late – instead, you condemned me to hate. Hate your soul, hate your words, hate what you did and whatever you tried; maybe one killer today, wouldn't be here if you had stayed. Those are just ideas, no need to think upon them too much for they will kill you and I will burn, like I was supposed to after birth. This person I see, looking back at me, I do not know him very well but he has promised to do something you never could. I promised him that I would, and so today, I became a King amongst the peasants."_

He suddenly trailed off for a moment, maybe because he could not think of a suitable line, although the people around him were already feeling the effects of his song. There were things wrapped inside his mind that no one would ever be able to hear again – Harley's natural psychologist side felt a strange urge to sit him down and try to find what was wrong.

"_The day I became the Nightmare, to the world..." _He wiped a tear away before strumming one last note on his guitar, "_But Nightmare's always end, in loneliness."_

For a moment, everything seemed to become silent around him. The men outside had settled down in their chattering to listen, Harley was completely still from where she was working, and even the reporter's outside caught some stray notes every now again. It seemed, for that brief moment in time, everyone joined the child in his mourning. Everyone realised that innocence was lost, before it was even able to be enjoyed.

"I think we should drag it out. Don't put any poisonous gas inside the ball, Harley," he suddenly said whilst glaring at her with his emerald eyes, "Instead, let him slowly die. Let him feel the oxygen around him becoming thinner and thinner, until every single last particle runs dry and he starts to choke on his own pollution. Let him scream for his life – don't let him get off lightly with Joker's death."

And with that, he disappeared from sight.


	23. I am Prepared

Tobias could feel nothing. As he wandered on the open rooftops, gazing down at the fools of Gotham, he could feel no fear, nor pity or anger; it was all replaced by a sense of numbness, something he probably should have been used to by now. If anything, the child should have been grateful for it, since it meant that he could no longer think about all the choices he was forced to make in his young life. Things like choosing whether he ate or drank at night, or maybe even if he slept in a home that was always in danger of being ransacked, sometimes weighed down on his conscious being and caused him to become suddenly depressed. The life of a rogue assassin – thankless, but somehow necessary work.

The reporters directed their cameras at him, although the boy found it difficult to care. Each flash of light, blinding his eyes momentarily before he set a brisk pace towards his new territory, brought a harsh revelation to his mind, about what he would always be to the world.

He was a thing to watch. A thing to study. If Nightmare was lucky, and they allowed him a few days of peace from tabloids, he could occasionally hear the odd conversation about himself from his hiding places. They were all waiting, biding their time until he finally collapsed from exhaustion, before they dug their claws into his back and carried his carcass through the streets. His broken, bloody body...

"We are lucky here folks!" Vicki Vale spoke loudly over the din of noise, "The infamous child assassin, Hooded Nightmare, has just appeared to us on top of the roofs of his new hideout. I'm absolutely chilled to see his silhouette on the news, which is often all we can get, although now we are looking straight at him and he's not even flinching! It's so terrifying, yet somehow, sad at the same time."

They pitied him. Tobias gazed down at the hundreds of people, all donned with fancy equipment and even fancier clothes, who seemed to be only interested in one thing. The cameras seemed to almost scream with each flash, "Fame! Fortune! Publicity!" He felt sickened whilst he allowed his eagle eyes to drag over them. It was a sea of artificial lightning, an ocean of pure waste, and he seemed to be the one they all wanted to see.

The entire world wanted to see his suffering.

Suddenly, he made a move underneath the scraggly hood-coat. Everyone below him jumped back, their cameras falling to the ground, as a scream rang out above the silenced crowd. They stared intently at his half-hidden figure, at his almost transparent features...and waited.

"I...I can't..." he whispered to himself, since that was the only person who would hear his words, "I can't bear to look at this mess. They're all just...pawns. Pawns in a massive game of chess, being pushed around by people who think they're better, when in reality they just hire me to kill the competition. Am I feeding this? Am I turning into my grandfather? Oh, Spirits – you have been so unkind to me."

Just as he spoke, the images around him started to part. He could see a blacked out figure on the ground, shaped in a manner that sent chills through his spine in addition to a raging fury. The child bit his lips as it became larger and larger, until the falling person had landed on its destination and waited patiently for his orders. Yet another rook, who would so happily leap in front of a bus if it meant saving his dear King.

Batman had arrived. Tobias hoped silently that the madwoman he worked with was finished with the trap. It had taken him days to collect all of that scrap metal; if it wasn't completed by now, she was probably wasting time by crying about Joker. When would she learn that he was the lucky one? Not having to pay for his thousands of crimes against Gotham, against the very world! Nightmare had been forced to pay for them, every single day of his life...

But what did he care? He turned on his heels expertly, ignoring the hundreds of flashes and the conspiracy theories raging around him as he thundered back to the steel mill. It was his turn to be on top this time. It was his turn to leap out of the shadows and fight back evil, even when other people didn't see it was there. And if they could never see it, what did he care? They were a doomed race, choking themselves with the pollution they created, whilst he was a born survivor.

Dozens of Harley's men guarded the entrance now. She had taken the liberty of beefing up security, which also included equipping her new team with the latest gadgets, and it caused Tobias to almost feel impressed. Many of the lowlifes who had served Joker did not return to her service, favouring instead to join Two-Face or Penguin, but she did well with what little resources she had. Harley Quinn was one of the most dangerous criminal in the world.

For the moment, at least.


	24. Unlikely Friends

Tobias watched as Harley donned her new black feather boa. She looked comparatively better today, even though little waterfalls of mascara cascaded down her face, and the madwoman managed to muster a smile at him as she prepared for the plan. The child had spent a long time trying to perfect it – if her failures caused this to be destroyed, he would have put her at the very top of his list.

"You look rather perfect today," he mentioned casually whilst flattening his hair, "Truly terrifying yet, somehow sophisticated. If any man were to fight for your affections, as they have threatened after Joker's death, than they would be intimidated by the sheer threat of your clothing." Harley smiled at him despite her upset; only a mere five hours were spent mourning for her puddin' today. It seemed so wrong now, that she should be working in an alliance with Nightmare whilst her heart still cried for the Joker.

"Thanks," she answered, "I used to look good all the time. Puddin' always wanted me too. He used to make me laugh so much when he wanted me to look better. 'Harley, I swear, if you don't start making more of an effort, than I'm going to start slapping sandpaper over your face.' He was such a riot!" A forced, hurt bout of laughter ran through the cold lair, in which her precious boyfriend had once sat. Tobias felt slightly angered by her insistence on dedicating everything to the deceased maniac, but he managed to hold his tongue long enough for her to regain composure. Why should he care what she thought about? He had what he needed, in the forms of dozens of henchmen and advanced stolen equipment.

"Yes. Well, we best not let the past commandeer our plan. You understand how close Batman is, don't you?"

"'Course I understand. You told me he's right outside."

"Exactly. So we best be careful about our next steps, or we run the risk of letting him escape. You don't want to let the Joker down again, do you?" It was a cruel trick to play; letting the Clownette think she was responsible for her baby's death. However, as Tobias saw it, he thought it was a necessary evil, since it would allow him to finally corner his father and slowly watch him die. Maybe then Batman would understand how the Nightmare had felt for all those years, when he was abandoned by his father and forced to learn the ways of the League to survive. Maybe then Tobias would be good enough. But then, it would be too late for him to apologise.

A smile etched on his lips whilst he prepared himself. After he received his payment the child had treated himself to a lovely new garment – a cloak hood similar to his old one, although this was coloured a dark black with the inside coated by fluff. It would keep him slightly warmer during the cold winter months, in addition to making himself seem a bit more fearful to the sheep-masses.

"I never thought I would get to this moment," Quinn admitted after a few moments of silence, "I never thought me, Harleen Quinzel, would be the one to kill Bat-Brain. Joker always told everyone he had that down, that he would hold Batman's head up over the crowds and throw it into an incinerator. He said he would ask Commissioner Gordon if he wanted fried Bat-wings, right before throwing him into a vat of acid. But I'm the one who's going to do that. Joker's not here anymore."

Sadness misted her eyes for a moment, causing her to bat her eyelashes in frustration. For a brief moment Tobias could feel something festering in his gut, something that he had not felt in a long time, which made him almost pity the Clownette's predicament. It was...familiar.

"But you are." She looked up as he spoke, mostly in confusion rather than interest. "You're here, Ms. Quinzel. Joker may be dead, and he's the lucky one, but we are still alive. That means that we have the reigns now; we're going to be the people who take over Gotham. We may not be in an alliance by that point, as I plan to go soon after Batman's demise and your victory. However I never forget a friend." He held his hand out to her, a glint threatening in his eye, complete with a smile stretching on his young features. Harley thought about how he looked right then – a normal young boy, rather than a psychotic mass-killer who had often been portrayed on the news as crazed.

"What do you mean?" she asked before taking his hand and standing up slowly. Nightmare smiled at her again, staying silent as he moved towards the window, until he finally broke his own state and replied with glee.

"When I take over Gotham, I'm planning to have a little party. You're the guest of Honour, Harley."


	25. Caught

Tobias was not present for a majority of the plan. He feared that his presence would alter the outcome, change what was supposed to happen – there was only one thing the child was capable of doing when Batman was around, and that was blindly attack without thinking. Harley would have to deal with the caped crusader until he was captured, since she was so keen to finally get her revenge for her beloved puddin' death. There was nothing quite so evil as a madwoman with a vendetta. Nightmare loved watching it.

Finally, after what seemed like decades, two men arrived at the lair. The assassin had been there for a good portion of the night, working tirelessly on future plans for his new alliance, although he was quick to abandon them when he heard the news. Batman had been captured! The fearless vigilante, so brave and bold, was being held captive like a hapless little toddler, only able to stare out at the world around him whilst plans were made for his fate. Delicious revenge!

Of course, Nightmare didn't care what happened to the man's body. After he watched the pathetic mewling for his life, the gasping as air slowly became thinner and the light dying from his father's eyes, the boy cared little for what happened. But, thankfully, that time was far off; Harley had been sure to make the ball big enough for a large supply of oxygen, even where it sat inside Joker's shrine's large metal hands.

It was a marvel. Batman was bigger up close, a fact that often caught Nightmare by surprise, as he climbed on the ball's glass face to admire his father closely. The chiselled uncovered features, the rubbery substance of his suit, which hugged his body so tightly it could have almost been considered inappropriate – if Tobias were able to observe the man dead, there would be much wonderment in peeling off that glorified tyre-outfit.

"Beautiful, Ms. Quinzel," he chuckled whilst two eyes trained on him, "I could have never imagined such results, especially because I did not go with you. Have the plans been followed to the letter? Have you gathered all the men? Please, tell me you decided not to put the new clasps on them." She looked at him with glee dancing in her eyes, almost menacingly so, before the child found a white sheet of paper laid on the sheet in front of him. It was entirely blank aside from one little marking in it; one single dot in the middle of it, staining the snow-white appearance as if it were an omen of bad tidings.

"I don't know what it means. Some assassin gave it to me, said it was for you. But that doesn't matter right now, does it?! We've got Bat-brain right where we want him! I can't believe it! And don't worry – turns out, the clasps don't actually let the men run anywhere, so I had to incorporate them into some of our torture machines instead. Joker would've been happier, ya know? With his face on the thing killing all those disgusting pigs, who did nothing all their life except hound him to the ground."

Tobias noticed a dulling in her eye, passing so quickly that he took a moment to register, which caused him to feel slightly more awkward. But there was something else playing on his mind as well, something that caused him to ignore Harley's somewhat saddened state.

Why would the League be contacting him?


	26. Honoured Vows

Tobias was confused. It didn't strike him as unordinary, that his grandfather would take interest in him when the child was all over local news stations, although this kind of reaction seemed almost impossible. He would have thought his ancient ancestor would have ordered his immediate return – however it seemed, as the little boy stared at this marking, Ra's was biding his time over it.

Nightmare had seen others receiving the same marking. It often meant little trivial things like, 'Death will come soon,' or, 'You have angered the League,' depending on how the ink ran...but this one was different. With its tiny little markings and little sketched blots; something told the assassin this was not a warning nor a threat, but rather a means to an end in some way. He did not want to dwell on its meaning for too long though, since his father was still waiting for death in the next room, so he tucked it into his brand new cloak-hood and set off a brisk pace towards Harley's lair.

"Can you believe it?! We've caught Bat-brain!" Quinn was jumping around in a fashion Tobias hadn't seen before, which caused a half-smile to sketch on his face whilst she danced around the broken lair, "Mister J would be so happy with us! I bet he's up there now, looking down at me with that big ole smile on his face, and hoping that I come soon to pay him a visit!"

"Yes, Miss Quinzel," Nightmare replied as he took off his cloak, "There have been very few captures of this menace, but now we have him in our grip. Before we know it Robin will start pecking around our lovely little steel mill – do you not think two in one would be a better way to show Joker your dedication?"

"Duh! Don't worry about it, squirt!" Her voice was laced with complete and utter glee, "I've already sent out mass distress signals, with Bat's voice! Before you can say, 'Fried Bat-wings,' we're going to be up to our eyeballs in dumb reporters and, eventually, Robin himself! Don't you just love it when a plan comes together like this?!"

Nightmare smiled softly at her, before turning his attention to the world outside. It buzzed with pointless little reporters, each one clambering for a taste of the spotlight, whilst overhead droned the lifeless machines that he had recently been attacked by. If there was an ounce of justice in this pathetic country, one tiny hint of sense amongst this chaos, all of these people would have found their fates at the tips of his daggers.

Alas, the assassin had more important things to worry about.

"I want to contact the Riddler soon, Ms. Quinzel."

"Why would you want to do that? Mister J had a lot of deals going on with him; there isn't one thing that slimy little weasel can't make, I don't think."

"Exactly. If we were to acquire a few spare parts – illegally or otherwise – then we might be able to copy an old design that I learnt in my boyhood. However I cannot construct them, for I was banished from my homeland dishonourably and I do not wish to anger the League more than I already have."

Harley looked at him oddly, her face half-covered in a swath of darkness, "But you're a killer. Why the Hell would you care about that?"

"I do have a code that I live by. It is...less refined than the previous one, although it still serves me well in who I kill and who I do not. If I were to make these guardians than they would not work, at least not to the extent we want them too – though if Riddler were to get his hands on some blueprints, perhaps a screwdriver or two..."

"Oh! I get it! Sure, squirt, we can get the Riddler in. He owes me big time anyway for a stupid bunch of trophies I let him put in the steel mill," her smile was warm, directed straight at the small person in front of her, who had probably killed more people than she had ever seen in her life. Often she had caught herself wondering about his origins and what kind of training he had gone through, to make him so disregarding of people's lives. Just like her Joker...

"Thank you, Miss. Now I must leave, for I have promised myself I would examine our little 'guest' as closely as I could. Do you know I do not desire to kill him when he's behind glass? What an amazing little discovery!" With those parting words, Tobias suddenly disappeared. It was lightning quick speed that allowed him to move so quickly, although he had recently described the ability to be more a curse than a gift.

"No problem squirt," she muttered dumbly, "No problem at all."


	27. Regrets

Batman watched as his son paced in front of the shrine. He could've believed that this boy was not his own, and that Talia had simply lied to him, but when he saw that fierce determination lining Tobias' face he knew that he was a Wayne. He knew that, beneath that hardened exterior and those glaring eyes, this child had half of his genes welded into his blood.

"You thought you would win," Nightmare eventually growled, after what seemed like decades of silence, "You thought that I would be so easily swayed to become your sidekick. Your little slave, competent of only the most menial tasks. Well, _father_, I'm so sorry to destroy your hopes and dreams for my future, but I find that this world is so much nicer with someone capable of clearing it up. How many people have I killed, you ask? Thousands, probably; what about you?"

The question caught Bruce off-guard. He had never killed someone before – that was the whole point of Batman – but his son's glare told him it was a serious request. What did it mean? What did he want him to say? The air around him was already becoming stale...

"I've never killed anyone," the vigilante muttered in reply, intent on saving some forms of oxygen, "I've never harmed anyone that's not evil. You shouldn't either."

"Oh shut up, you mindless idiot!" The bark from Tobias made the guards jump, although they quickly stood to attention again so they would not rouse his anger, "Of course you have killed! Joker, for instance!"

"I never killed him. He killed himself with that TITAN."

"I don't mean that. Of course you didn't kill him; the fool managed to do that himself, though I am thankful for his demise more than anything. No, Batman – how many villains have you created? How many lives have been lost to those which would not exist, had you never reared your cowl? At least when I unsheathe my blades, I am called a murderer, whilst you are revered by young children and countless adults as a hero. You are nothing but a killer."

The speech cut him deeper than he would have thought. Many times Bruce heard those words, coming from the mouths of many people, but to hear the very same thoughts from the mind of his own son caused him to think they might have been true. How many people were dead because of him? Would Strange have lobotomised so many if he didn't want to figure Batman out? These thoughts circulated in his mind briefly before Tobias continued talking.

"You and my bitch of a mother did nothing but hinder me," as he spoke, the child pulled out his daggers in a menacing fashion, "When I lay there as a baby, helpless of my fate, you decided that your presence was not needed! You condemned me to this life! You created _me, _the Hooded Nightmare, and my blades have tasted the blood of many! Batman killed my targets, not I!"

Suddenly, Nightmare rushed up to both of the guards and slashed their stomachs open. It was a deep cut, one that sliced through their innards like butter, and all Bruce could do was watch in horror as they fell to the ground. His son held a punishing position, one hand to the floor and his leg stretched out behind him whilst his eyes remained closed, before a smile played on his lips. The blood was pouring over him now, in a manner that his father could have thought repulsive.

"Every target," he muttered as the blood slowed, "Every death. Every person. You, my dear sweet _father, _have been responsible for each one. Had you never slept with my mother, never fertilised me, or never left, then those people would still be living today."

A tear trickled down Tobias' cheek. He couldn't say that he was particularly thoughtful of his kills, though he wanted to hurt the Batman as much as he possibly could. This was probably the longest they had ever spoken before, without the child trying to cut the hero's head off and mount it on his apartment's wall.

"Please, Tobias," he whispered whilst his son regained composure, "There are many ways for you to redeem yourself. There are hospitals, prisons, education – if you are not doing it for me, do it for yourself. You are better than this life, son. You are better than Quinn, Riddler, Joker; all of them, because you come from-"

"SILENCE!" His shout rattled the loose glass panels and Bruce instantly hushed. Nightmare turned on his heels, his swords brandished in a threatening manner, before he began to mutter words he never thought he would say. "If you had only stayed, then I would not exist. I could have loved you, Batman. We could have been father and son. But now..."

Bruce watched as his son turned and wandered to the poster tapped on the wall. It was a wanted sign, quite clearly displaying the child's hooded face and titling a very hefty reward for his death/capture, but the boy was not interested in that. Instead, Tobias slowly sliced his sword through it, in an attempt to shield himself from this harsh reality he lived in.

"But now, the Hooded Nightmare is in control."


	28. Frozen Wisdom

For the next few days, Tobias devoted much of his time to quiet study. The child felt as though he was not needed in the torturing of the police, nor did he want to associate himself with the idle gossip of the guards, which left him to enjoy solitude in the grasp of his quiet lair.

Batman had been missing for a few days now. Surely the ever-vigilant sidekick, the unremarkable Robin, would come here soon to reclaim his over-blown mentor in some ludicrous escape? Nightmare was becoming tired of waiting – he sat every night in that lair, looking out at the rain-drenched world, and waited for the Bird to come pecking about. It was only a matter of time.

Everything was only a matter of time.

The assassin had quickly become weary of his study. There was no point to it, save that he brushed up on facts he already knew about, though his eyes remained trained on the boring white-and-black print. It were as if he was afraid to miss something, something important; when being trained by his mother all those years ago, the child remembered she had often told him to expect the unexpected. Maybe this was a result of her teaching? That he could never let the small details go, not even if it meant that his mind would finally have some much needed rest...

Suddenly, he looked up from his book. The lair, long since covered in a thick layer of darkness and coated by a strange depression, was somehow colder than it was before, which caused him to shiver whilst pulling his nearby cloak hood towards him. Why was it suddenly so cold? Why was it chilling in here? Tobias had heard many theories on the sudden drop in temperature, all ranging from scientific to paranormal, though he hadn't been graced with feeling its random icy sting before.

"Sorry 'bout that!" Harley bonded in with her mourning suit on as the temperature continued to decrease, "The Ice-box just got here! I couldn't find Riddler, and Freeze needs to pay for screwing Joker over when he was alive, so I decided to get him in for old time's sake! Plus, I sort of have boys standing with his wife at gunpoint...but that doesn't matter, does it?"

By this point, a mist was starting to billow out of Tobias' nose. He smiled slightly; it was always nice to look at his breath, floating around in a frozen kind of smoke that touched every corner he could not reach. It gently caressed the blackened features of Quinn before he regained his senses.

"I told you I wanted Mr. Nigma," the child replied whilst closing his book. A speck of dust fell from the ceiling, only to land softly on his jet black hair before he started speaking again, "He is the only one who can build this construct. Mister Freeze – respectable scientist, I assure you – couldn't build something quite so complicated even if he tried. How long did you spend looking?"

"Come on, squirt! With Batman hulled up in the other room I don't have time for looking at things; just go downstairs and help him make the machine, okay? Besides, I'm sure when Birdbrain turns up we'll be able to make it worth your while."

Tobias did not want to start an argument. Even though it was inevitable he would win, his partner had a point with her words – there was no time for anything too extensive just yet, when his father was so happily tucked away in their little shrine-room.

Her shrine. His room.

So the child helped Victor make the guardians, to the best of his abilities. There was much wisdom he couldn't pass on, resulting in weakened machines and flimsy steel bodies, although this didn't seem to cause the scientist any discomfort with his creation. In fact, a proud smile almost danced on his cold blue face as he held up the first prototype and gazed at the trapped Batman.

"You and Miss Quinzel have certainly done well in Joker's absence," he muttered quietly, in a way that showed how he despised them right now, "I should expect to hear of the Batman's demise soon enough, yes?"

"When my father has received a sufficient amount of pain, we are considering allowing him to die. However, as current circumstances are playing in our favour, our allegiance may extend to pumping oxygen within the ball and keeping him alive for longer," Nightmare explained whilst fashioning an alloyed steel head, "I cannot see myself losing such a golden opportunity."

The scientist glanced around them for a moment. It was strange, that a block of walking ice would feel such pity for the child, even when they were doing so well in their conquest, but he felt the need to pass on these words of wisdom. Tobias could never know what sort of trouble he was getting into otherwise.

"Beware of the clown's girlfriend, Tobias," the robotic voice crackled like a meat grinder, "When her plan falls to ashes, you'll be nothing but collateral damage."


	29. The Robin Cry

Everything was finally falling into place. After Mister Freeze helped construct those mechanical guardians, each equipped with their own unique gears, he left them to their plans with no intention of sullying their work. The lack of fight was made even better by his promise to remain as far away as possible, and only to return if the alliance proved successful in the near future. Tobias grinned as the frozen killer walked away – what possible need would he and Quinn have for that train-wreck? When their allegiance was all over the news, on the lips of every person unfortunate enough to reside in Gotham, then they would never call for the assistance of one so pathetic.

It took a few more days for Robin to make his appearance. Nightmare awoke that morning as he often did, positively buzzing with excitement as new reports flooded in of their evil deeds. Dead citizens, completed contracts, stolen equipment; it was all there on paper, whilst the idiots below continued their pointless little rants at their existence. Would they ever see how little the pair cared? Harley was much too busy crying about Joker to ever think about the reports, and the assassin simply loved to watch them think they were making a difference in this filth-infested city.

Robin had appeared later on that night, before Tobias chose to make himself scarce for the upcoming battles. There was very little he could do in a fight with the sidekick considering the fact he would happily throw him on a furnace, as his partner wanted the boy alive. He smiled when remembering her hysterical words, etched with twinges of madness whilst she screamed her blind victory.

"Birdbrain needs to be alive!" She shouted at him in the lair, her hands thrown up as she did cartwheels and flips, "I need him to see what he's done to me, right before we rip his head off for the buzzards! It's what Mister J would have wanted, squirt!"

Tobias couldn't say he liked the nickname. Whenever he heard that word, even on the lips of someone he was beginning to care greatly for, it was a struggle not to grip his swords in an attempt to slash their throats. But then again, that was the fun of knowing the assassin! No one would ever know when he was likely to snap…

Robin arrived not long after that, and Nightmare followed him closely in the shadows. It was a struggle to not immediately jump down and kill him although he pulled it off quite nicely – the child even refrained from laughing out loud during one unsuccessful attempt at sneaking, which caused Birdbrain to collapse onto a guard and very nearly kill him. What restraint on his part! There must've been plenty of normal people who would have found themselves dying from such a sight, even if they were utterly in love with the idea of a vigilante such as Robin!

It was a while until he became bored with stalking, and decided that his time was better spent on Batman. The oversized rodent went into meditation state a while ago, probably in an attempt to preserve his precious oxygen, although around him the fight was very much awake. There were many things hanging in the balance aside from his pointless life; if he were to die tonight, then the people of Gotham would find their hometown over-run by the true nature of their city. People such as Tobias would come out of the woodwork, their eyes locked on revenge for these injustices, whilst every Gothamite burned under the heat of their own creation. Marvellous! Simply and utterly marvellous!

"Your precious sidekick has arrived," Nightmare spoke, however he knew Batman could not hear, "When he turned up I thought there had been a circus in town! There must have been some disagreement about his costume design? It looks like he's done nothing but bought a bit of rubber and stretched it around himself! Though, by my understanding, he's always been a bit of a show-off for girls' attention, am I right?"

The child loved taunting his father. He loved making him understand how predictable he was, and revelled in knowing his words would probably cut deeper than his blades. There would always be his tongue to do battle with if his weapons were not present.

"They think he's so perfect, with his moves and his mysteriousness. What about me, father?! I'm mysterious, I've got better techniques than he could ever hope for, and yet you still chose him over me!" Now this was more a cry of jealousy rather than taunting, a feeling that had resonated in Tobias for many years when he found out about Robin. It was difficult for him to understand the reasons, especially when he didn't have all of the facts, though this didn't stop him from shouting his pain, "You still chose to have that spoilt little boy in your presence and you ignored me! I was only a baby! I was _your_ baby! You killed Tobias! You created Hooded Nightmare!"

If Batman had been awake, his heart would have surely broken at the raise in pitch. His son's emerald eyes began to fill with crystal tears, perfectly formed as they cascaded down his white cheeks, even though Nightmare denied they existed. This child wanted nothing, no pity nor sorrow; the only thing they required from the vigilante now was his death, and the rest would surely come later. It just had to. Tobias didn't have any other options now.

"I understand…I know why you did it father," the assassin regained his composure as he spoke, "The spirits have chosen me to carry their true message, one that my grandfather is entirely incapable of holding himself. Soon, the Hooded Nightmare will be the name on everyone's lips, and it shall be I who has rid this world of the filth that inhabits it. You know who I am going to start with?"

Tobias was ashamed that, momentarily, he became infuriated when his father didn't reply. It took a while for him to remember their current situation and turn around, with a fresh scarlet glow tearing through his soft cheeks like a tidal wave.

"I'm going to kill Robin first," he muttered as he left.


	30. I promised

Events unfolded during that time, which Tobias found he had little control over. Robin was successful against Harley for their first encounter, a fact that caused great annoyance to the young assassin, although he found himself taking unnecessary pity on her whilst cutting the Clownette down. She must have been off her game – after the death of Joker, he couldn't have possibly thought she would be fit for duty. Not against the Robin.

"He let Bats go," she wept as the child cleared his footsteps, "What are we going to do now, squirt? I can't let Mister J down again; I can't let him think that we're going to fail him. So…what's the plan?" Her big eyes, tear-stained now since the tears continued to stream, stared up at him in a way that invoked pity. She was not capable of doing this alone. And he had been paid to look after her, no matter what his job description technically said about things.

"You go and fight him off as best you can, Harley," Nightmare muttered, leading her slowly through a back-passage which went towards their lair, "There's no chance that this insufferable Batman will die tonight, not with his precious little Robin on the side-lines. You are worried for your madman's revenge – never fear, for he shall have it, though in my plans it shall come with added benefit for us. Gather everything, leave no trace of us. I shall meet you in our designated location."

And so, the real plans began. Tobias left the lair soon after his chat, forcing Quinn to fight her way through the shame of defeat and watch as the beautiful place her beloved built became destroyed. Batman showed no remorse, as the child had predicted; from where he sat, atop the cold stone chimneys on the other side, Nightmare could see his father talking to his partner, in his usual condescending way. He narrowed his eyes.

Why would that insufferable bastard try to break out? Why ruin such a perfect plan, so well balanced and thought out, when he could have just done the world a favour and died? They needed to see their hopes burn as each aspect of their lives went out, and the terrifying reality of their own creations started to plague the once-clean streets. Tobias was determined to get rid of this pest, no matter how long it took him.

The next few days slipped by in chaos. Though Harley was in custody, most likely locked up with a thousand other criminals, the Gothamites were still living in terror for the child's freedom. They knew he could appear at any time. They knew that he could kill them, if they were ever unlucky enough to be on his contract list. And Nightmare could understand their fear – more often than not, he would have to trawl the streets in days of stalking, just so he could pinpoint where he could kill the next unwitting target. Until the assassin was caught, no one was safe. No one would live in harmony, in peace.

Not even Tobias.

He spent the next weeks laying low, so that the hype would eventually die down. Bruce Wayne appeared on the television appealing for him during this time, trying to reach his sense of humanity so that the police could trap him. But the child was too clever for these tricks; there was a promise still in his heart, one that said for him to remain in that designated location, and he refused to break it.

So there was many hours spent in the storms, which quickly followed after the disintegration of his plans; however the child barely felt this as he gathered sticks for his shelter. In the trees, there was a small construction of barren twigs and a few large branches, all clasped together with weak twine that he had stolen from the docks. This was his home for the moment, until Harley managed to escape from her current situation.

It provided little protection against the tempests, and even less against the irritating little creatures that wanted his dwindling food supply.

"I won't break my promise. I'll wait here until this allegiance is spent."


	31. Sympathetic

Riddler had been following the news recently. Well, from where he sat in this high-tech prison facility, it seemed entirely plausible that a man such as himself would be forced to watch this drivel. Even when he petitioned for a few riddle books or maybe an interesting novel, the guards chose to switch on the television and leave his mind to rot.

They would have to try harder than that.

One morning Mr Nigma found himself bored, sipping upon a sweet cup of tea in that God-awful prison room. What was a man to do, when all his favourite equipment had been stolen away? Hm – and he was supposed to be the criminal!

So, the villain had resorted to flicking through the channels, in the hopes that something might catch his attention. There were typical things on these days, such as boring children's shows and a few choice abominations on the film industry, but it didn't dampen his spirits whilst he continued to trawl the entertainment listings. Why wasn't Silence of the Lambs on? He would have so enjoyed watching that, especially since he was sitting in a prison cell similar to Mr. Lector's.

It was decorated by a few childish drawings (none of which were his own) and a lone, white washed bed, although the Riddler's expert eyes could detect ever-faint stains. Were there no detergents capable of tackling gravy? How exasperating. There were a few plus sides to this place though, if he included the see-through glass door or the bare circuit light-bulb that hung down from the high ceiling. Maybe he could use that someday, when the guards weren't watching him...

Suddenly, the television flashed on with a news report. Nigma's thoughts rushed for a moment with questions, mostly asking how the reporter managed to dress herself this morning as she proved her stupidity; however he carried on watching it, but probably because there was an apparent lack of options.

"In other news, the young Hooded Nightmare has since vanished after Harley Quinn was captured. It is reported that they were in an alliance, which had deadly consequences on a few dozen of recently murdered citizens," her voice was laced with terror, as if merely mentioning the child's name caused fear to resonate within. Riddler looked up – was it truly that difficult to utter the name Nightmare? Though, admittedly, he too had tried his best not to run into the boy when that debt hung over his head.

The report continued on, dabbling over a few details that they had acquired from the case, before finally muttering that he remained at large despite Quinn's capture. Nigma found sparks of sympathy running through him, though why he would be feeling anything for a child he barely knew was a mystery. Another conundrum that he could work out, rather than a hint that his humanity still remained vaguely in-tact.

"It seems my younger friend's alliance has apparently fallen apart," he thought whilst twiddling with his green buttons, "Maybe I should attempt a daring escape, and go off looking for him? Not many would be able to guess where he is! Well...I guess Batman might be looking for his little boy, to some extent." The familiar bowler hat, which sat loftily on his head, seemed to almost twitch with glee as its owner planned his own escape. It wasn't so much that he wanted to help the child though this was certainly a defining factor.

There was something alive in his mind for that young child and it caused a stir within him, although that may have just been the awfully prepared meal he consumed earlier. What was going to happen if he found Nightmare dead? An unlikely outcome in any situation, that such an expert assassin would be rotting somewhere. Especially when he had been trained to take care of himself.

And when Mr. Nigma found that hooded devil, they could potentially make the deadliest pair alive.


	32. Second Agreement

Cold rain shot down to the ground, entirely soaking a sad-looking shelter. It was constructed in the trees which themselves seemed in agony, as they twisted against the harsh wind and attempted to shield their brand new occupant. There were even a few leaves that broke free from their earthy chains, just so they could press against the poor barren shelter-sides, probably in a desperate fight to keep the little treasure within safe.

The belly of this little twig-place held one of the more precious gems, one of the forgotten pieces that society left to die whilst nature wished to nurture its potential. Though his ears were frozen and his feet were numb there was that feeling of acceptance resonating as the storm grew; Tobias could understand why Poison Ivy loved these natural constructs so much. Their caring tendencies were more than he had ever received in his life, although he could have been more liable to accept them when a storm didn't rage against his home.

"S-s-s-such cold," the child muttered to himself whilst he pulled the hood further down, "If I were-were-were a little warmer, maybe this predicament wouldn't be so b-b-bad." Even as he said it the child's toes seemed to become frostbitten, and the continued chattering of his walls caused yet another shudder from his well-formed back. He crouched, hopeful for some peace in the chaos that was this world, before wrapping the thick cloak around the tiny body he possessed.

This seemed highly illogical. Just days ago, not a short time after his tenth birthday, the child controlled an entire steel mill as well as the grief-stricken Harley Quinn. And now there was nothing left of that success, not even a few blood-spattered clothes that he could hold up and smile at for a few hours. No – nothing remained of those few short months, in which Tobias could have thought his troubles were finally coming to a close. All that existed now was this terrifying tempest outside, so viciously battering against his feeble little home whilst he cowered like a hapless child inside.

"What is t-t-this?" His teeth chattered as he spoke, although to who was a complete mystery, "I-I'm Nightmare, for God's sake! Hiding under this little shawl by myself, as if waiting for someone to come down and rescue me; am I forgetting who I am?!" Nothing seemed so pathetic as to lie down in this place. What was going on? He was the Hooded Nightmare, of course, who feared nothing – not death, nor pain nor laws – it was simply irrational to assume he had feelings of any sort.

Suddenly, he heard a snap. A single twig fell from its place, as it had been threatening to for a number of days, before a thousand others seemed to follow its lead. Like a dumbstruck toddler Tobias watched, wondering to himself whether he should bother moving or let the tide of sticks drag him to an untimely death. But even if he tried, the child would find that his joints had frozen stiff from cold and the tempest was about to claim his life no matter what he tried.

"Spirits be praised for the end, as I undertake it on this day," he muttered under his breath, bringing his knees up to his thin chest whilst the world around him seemed to crumble, "If there were any justice, my father would have died when I held him. But no; take me spirits, and allow for this demonic presence to go."

At that moment, everything went in slow motion. The groaning floor of his shelter finally fell apart and he fell to the ground, although so slowly that he swore he could touch the air passing so gently between his fingers. Any screams he may have possessed at the fall were taken by the wind, yet another example of nature's kindness, as his tiny body continued to plummet to the earth. Finally this was it – the end of an end, which brought peace to the mind of its means. How...terrifying.

_Spirits, spirits, _his mind continued to cry despite his silence, _take me before I land, I beg of you. Such pain as broken bones cannot be taken, not when I am trying to make my peace with the world._

But Tobias was wrong. Wrong about this being his final moments, about the Spirits giving him a merciful end, and about nature being the only nurturing thing around at that time. For, whilst his body continued its freefall to earth, he had not noticed the villain hopping around on the floor, dressed in a dirty green mackintosh and attempting to see through the blackening rain-bullets. However, the man below had heard the snap of the shelter above, right before he saw the waterfall of twigs dropping to the floor.

"Nightmare!" The scream sounded seconds in advance, and the mystery man's hands were thrust out almost immediately when he caught sight of the falling boy. An act of mercy maybe; it was hardly like the infamous Riddler to show such sympathy towards a 'foolish child.'

"Ouch!" Tobias screamed out whilst he stared around in a daze, staring at the large oak-trees around him that stood like silent soldiers, before he finally turned his head to look at his rescuer. It was not a noble sight, what with his fur-fringed hood hanging over his eyes and a miserable pair of glasses placed on the tip of his nose, but what would Tobias expect? A white knight, in possession of a thousand horses and guardsmen? Riddler was an unexpected turn of events – if there was ever a knight braying for his rescue, than the assassin probably would have fainted from shock!

"Oh my! I was hoping I would drop in on you, not the other way around!"

"Be quiet, Nigma," he growled in reply, jumping out of the man's hands and attempting to dust himself off, "Why on earth are you out here in such weather? How did you know where to find me?"

"Don't look so shocked, Nightmare. You know perfectly well that I am capable of the most difficult conundrums. I simply determined the place I thought you would be better suited in, decided whether you would still be present after so much time had passed, and worked my way here with a few pages of Nancy Drew!"

Tobias felt an insufferable smile twitching on his lips before he replied, "Why have you come?" In truth he knew the answer, but he just wanted to hear it from the lips of the infamous Riddler.

"Isn't it obvious? To join intellectual forces, of course!"


	33. Greatest Plan

Riddler was true to his word. In only a few short out the deadly conundrum dealer and the assassin had struck up a sufficient deal; one that would not only ensure their survival in the world but in an added bonus, allowed for the young boy to rescue Harley from her captors. The pathetic shelter he constructed was in shambles, ruins – only through sheer luck did Riddler still possess his flat, and through determination Tobias forced himself to walk back into Arkham City.

"Not much, not much," sang the green-clad criminal as he danced about the vacant property, which had been completely stripped of his computers and equipment, "It's not a home to many, but to me it has a certain pull. Sit down Nightmare!" The child stared around at the hideous black and blue walls, admiring the way they still stood up after so much apparent torment, whilst the rotting mildew covered floor seemed to almost quiver at his footsteps. It took a good twenty seconds for him to find an old wooden crate, one that squealed as his weight collapsed onto it.

"This is a...lovely, accommodation. Never before have I almost thrown up at something so beautiful," his tone was sarcastic, although Riddler could hear the non-existent gratefulness behind it. He seemed content enough whilst Tobias continued to admire his newest surroundings.

"So, let's get down to business!" The sound of a shuffling footstep was heard, before suddenly Nightmare saw Riddler throw himself onto the floor beside him. His skinny body could have collapsed on impact, malnourished since the mistreatment of Tyger; however it hadn't worn away that evil glint in his hollow eyes.

"Business?"

"Well now, you don't expect me to walk into a high security prison without a plan do you? I mean, I may have just escaped from there, but we're going to be pushing the envelope a little bit," whilst he spoke, the evil man started to twirl his bamboo like cane into the air, his green trophy atop it sparkling in the bleak light, "And if we're going to collect Miss Quinzel from her apparent situation, then I would require us to have a little more of an idea than simply, 'break out and bust out', wouldn't you?"

"I have been doing that all of my life, Riddler. What makes you think I need a plan now; just because you're tagging along?"

"Because, my dear little killer – I'm the man who has brought you here, and I'm also the only one out of us who has seen the inside of the prison facility. You may want to sneak through the vents or something but I want a big parade to announce my arrival!"

Tobias rolled his eyes before collapsing onto the wall. Unpleasant wetness seeped through his only clothes, causing a faint moan to escape his slightly blue hued lips, and an irritated glint to pass through his eyes.

"Fine then, we'll do it your way. I suppose it couldn't hurt to allow these people to know, that the Hooded Nightmare is alive and well, and I've still got a few contracts that need completing. Letting these pathetic idiots know I'm alive would be...more than adequate."

"Ah, but it won't just be us little man. Listen to what I have to say, put your input in, and we can have one day entirely dedicated to madness. Let's show Gotham what they created!"

And so, the greatest plan ever made came into creation. It involved hundreds of criminals, thousands of names that they knew and hated, although both parties were welcome to the idea of working together for one day. A grand heist was just what they all needed to shake off the cobwebs; if these people thought that they were all destroyed from the apparent collapse of Arkham City, then they were about to be rudely awakened to the horrible truth.

Tobias smiled after it had been completed. Finally, it would be his time to be noticed. There was no need to hide in the shadows now – Riddler was at his beck, soon Harley would be too. And if they were lucky, the other criminals would see potential and come to join their crusade.

The death of Joker; the creation of the Criminal forces.


	34. Beginning

"I'm sorry; who do you want me to work with?"

"Now, now, Nightmare! Don't act all surprised when I say his name, like you've never heard it before!"

"That's the problem – I have heard his name before, and I've hated him since I took my first steps in Gotham city." A worried frown descended upon Tobias' hooded features, of which he felt more comfortable hidden than on show. From across the torn down room sat Riddler, innocently twiddling with a few mechanical masterpieces (which admittedly were simply constructed from string and spare parts) whilst the child wondered how he was going to deal with the new problem presented to him.

His evil companion absent-mindedly replied, "Look, I don't really love the man either, but if we're going to get anywhere we need Jonathan Crane on our side. Anyway, he's not that bad anymore. Not since Croc got his hands on him." Nightmare's eyes lit up for a moment as he recalled the story, about his most hated villain being shredded and fed to a genuine monster, before failing in his plot to drive Gotham insane with fear. It was a wonderful thing to think about, especially since Scarecrow had tried many times to drive the assassin towards the same fate.

"Well I suppose there are no real quarrels, provided that he stays as far out of my way as physically possible," whilst he spoke, Tobias busied himself with quick sketches of Harley's current prison. There was nothing that forced him to save her – rather, it would probably be much more beneficial if he left her to rot – however the child made a promise towards the recently 'widowed' woman, and there was nothing that would make him abandon his vow. If he did there would be nothing left to differentiate himself from his father, nothing that drew the line between vigilante and assassin.

"Done and done," muttered Riddler in reply before he leapt to his feet, so quickly that Nightmare thought he had suffered a fright, "But enough of that, now! We don't want to get worn down by talk of Dr. Crane, do we? Let's talk about something that really interests us; where do you think we should enter the prison? On the off-chance that the details I gave you have allowed for some further analysis."

"Of course it has, Riddler. By my calculations, which are always right, the lay out follows a rather basic scheme. It has been in place since the first high-tech prison was constructed, many years ago when the term 'super-criminal' referred to serial killers without costumes, and shouldn't be that much of a problem unless there's high security."

"But...?"

"Well, assuming that the security is moderate to high, we shall still encounter problems of a death toll kind. We don't want people to know too much about our joint methods yet, and they should not be able to pinpoint them if we continue to attack in fast rapid motions. Keep some of the techniques hidden and only use what is absolutely necessary by that point – for instance, those brand new Green Grenades I constructed aren't needed for use yet, whilst your cane's modifications will probably come in handy at some point."

And so, the barriers were set. The plan became real. Both of the parties, no matter how experienced and how much they wanted to keep themselves calm, felt the sting of excitement as they gathered their things and set off for the prison facility. What would stand in their way? With Harley by their side and the other criminals sure to agree, there was nothing that could go up against such sheer strength.

Tobias smiled; Batman had yet to see his potential.


	35. Almost There

It must have been a half hour walk to the prison but, as expected for two super-criminals who had terrorised the city numerous times, they took at least three hours travelling there. The police were crawling all over the place by the time they arrived and Tobias decided to wait in the shadows for a moment, intently observing their robotic natures in a way to use it against them. Somewhere within those grey walls, locked away like an animal whilst no doubt being treated as one, was Harley, and he swore to himself that he would give her back her liberty.

"There's not much else to watch," Riddler mentioned since to his untrained eye, there were only police and no patterns, "Why don't we just make our way leisurely inside? I'm sure Harley's going to be thrilled to see you – after staying in here for so long, I've no doubt that she'd be thrilled to see a grilled cheese sandwich coming to her rescue."

Nightmare remained quiet although he let his friend continue rambling. For him everything told a story, everything was worth watching, which meant that countless had been spent in simple stalking of his prey. Any advisories he possessed were hunted, not attacked; such brutality would be pulled off in elegant movements rather than mindless violence. It was about time Riddler learned his methods and techniques properly.

"Silence," the assassin suddenly hissed even though his friend hadn't been talking, "There – did you see that?" It was then that a long childish finger was pointed from their hiding place (a particularly well-covered tree, shuddering in the frozen wind and threatening their position every second) towards a ridiculously young guard at the front entrance. This man was so young that, despite all of the gnarled barbed wire on the gate behind and the generously proportioned guard towers, it was simply amusing to behold. Riddler wondered momentarily if he could even grow facial hair before turning back to the point.

"See what?"

"You must be blind! Every minute, he turns back to his phone. By my guesses of his body language, coupled with the fact that his face is tensed, I suggest that he is arguing with a lover...or mother."

It was a valid thought. After being drawn to the young man's existence, Riddler paid closer attention to his actions and sure enough saw them for himself. There was a twitch in his eye, a glare directed at a whistling police officer near him; all of this evidence pointed towards anger, which was probably caused by the boy's previous thought. The green-clad man smiled before pointing his abnormally long, modified cane forwards.

"Fair enough, so when do we kill him?"

"We don't kill him," Tobias replied whilst adjusting his thick cloak, "You best keep your murdering ways quiet tonight. We're here for one reason and one reason only – Quinn is released tonight, without any blood being shed. I'm not on a contract here."

"No, you're not, so why even bother winning the Quinn? That's the real question here, isn't it? The heartless little killer saving the heartless big killer."

Nightmare turned and looked at the Riddler's dancing eyes, but whatever retort he had lined up was lost in an instant. He realised something when staring into those menacing irises; the conundrum solver wanted him to have higher feelings for Harley, like it would've made him weaker in some sense, and allowed him to take reign of their ingenious plan.

"I made a vow – where I come from, oaths are nothing if not verbal contracts. They are as valid as the day is merciless, which means that until she is rescued, I am in the Clownette's debt. I don't like owing people anything, and I'm sure you know all too well what that means."

It was by that point that Nightmare fell silent again, allowing his eyes to direct back onto the path below. Now luck was on their side as the young policeman went on his way, probably off to go and gorge himself on comfort food, whilst that meant there was an open opportunity for the evil doers.

"Here's our chance," he muttered before softly flipping out of the tree, "Stay closely to me, and by that I mean be silent. Some higher forms of security might be inside; unless you want to be killed, then you will do what I say."


	36. Phase Two

Walking into the prison was easy enough. Tobias found that the guards weren't as perceptive as first thought and Riddler, although itching to let himself loose in a diva-fashion, remained silent when following the child. What else could he do? Nightmare moved so casually through the vents, so relaxed that he could've called them home, that there was much doubt of the super criminal's usage. When would he come into the plan? It was far too quiet an approach...

"Quinn is about seven minutes away," the assassin was working from memory, since he had mulled over the map beforehand, "I can tell that we shall meet little resistance. All of the guards seem to be keeping to the left hand side – maybe there's some sort of experiment going on? It'll be nice to meet a new lunatic on the street."

Riddler didn't want to comment, as he could see the strains etching Tobias' movements. The rhythm of his lucrative gestures became robotic, mechanical, like he was suddenly stiff at the joints but still found energy to continue. There was something about him that the villain admired, if only the fact he was so deadly it made people fearful. How could he learn those skills? Some people just chuckled when the name Riddler was uttered.

Seven minutes passed quickly, and Nightmare was proven right on his theory. Quinn's cell was directly on the way whilst also being unguarded, however there was one factor that he hadn't considered. It was Harley's crying, her begging for release, which was understandable due to her recent trauma, yet somehow annoying to the child's ears.

"Oh, Joker," she sobbed needlessly as the pair began their descent, "I can't believe I let you down like this! I can't believe; I just can't! I'll kill everyone just to see your face again, just so you can hurt me for doing wrong! It's what you would usually do..."

Time for phase two of their master plan.


	37. Running

Harley was a difficult escapee, indeed. Her sobbing was loud enough to wake the dead and her cries, though perfectly understandable, only served to rouse the guard's suspicions as they crept. Nightmare was becoming irritated with it – how did she expect to make it out of here alive, when she made such a racket getting out?! The young assassin was tempted to gag her mouth, at least until they were in a certain safe zone. What wouldn't he do to fulfil a vow?

"I must admit, trailing through air vents isn't something I had planned," Riddler chatted absentmindedly behind him, granted Tobias was only half-listening, "Perhaps my bucket list should get a little bit longer? I'm guessing my presence in your company will make that happen, won't it?" a chuckle sounded from his lips and, without thinking, the boy grumbled a short reply. He didn't want to get too involved; if their 'master-plan' went south, he'd need to get out of there as soon as possible, with as little ties as he could leave.

"I told you that we'd do it your way, but this is better than you could have done," his muttering almost echoed around the vent, although he quickly hushed himself. The palms of his soft hands were frozen to the touch now, like Mister Freeze had paid him an unexpected visit, and he struggled to continue despite his training. It was going to be a difficult few months if he had to sneak into lots of prisons, especially to gain those criminals that were incarcerated. Maybe this wasn't the best idea?

"There's still going to be a red-carpet affair!" the Riddler's laugh was less quiet than Tobias's, although not loud enough to be heard, "When we've got all the plans made and all the arrangements set, I don't think there's going to be a dry body in the house! Imagine it! Wonderful lights, amazing theatre, perhaps a dead man or two..." even the assassin thought this was ridiculous, that they would get caught before the fruition of their plans, but his desire to have a goal was too great. After all, he was the Nightmare, and he could simply slip away if things got too intense.

Which, knowing Riddler and Harley, they would do.

"How f-f-f-far is it until-" the wailing Clownette was immediately cut off.

"Not far now, my dear!"

"Yes, Miss Quinzel, we should be arriving at the surface soon. A few minutes, at most."

She snorted a reply, but probably because Nightmare couldn't see her. The acrobatic widow was grateful for his return, for his vow to release her, and there seemed to be nothing that would break his promise. Unlike Joker, who had regularly abandoned her, Tobias seemed to be devoted to his own morals, although she wasn't sure how long this would last. He was a killer after all, one with more than three hundred murders until his belt and dozens of warrants on his head. No one could be sure when he would grow bored with nobility.

Sometimes, it was a wonder for Tobias.

"Finally!" cold air rushed past their face as the child sped up, heading straight towards a seemingly blocked entrance, "I told you, Riddler. There's bound to be some escape hatch somewhere, that they haven't cut off properly. Do you think..."

He stopped for a moment. This excitement had caused him to lose that charm, that sophisticated stance he'd tried so hard to keep. It took a while for him to regain it.

"Do you think that we'll be able to open it? Without the use of crowbars, I mean, since there's none conveniently placed?" he smiled slightly at the green-clad man, who was now staring at the hinges.

"No need. Smash those hinges open; they're rusted, and they shouldn't be able to find the source of the noise until we're gone. Quickly, now."

One swift gesture later, the trio were rapidly rushing through the darkened forest, hearing sirens blare behind them. The echoes of screams whispered in their ears but, for all they were worth, none of them turned, and none of them thought of the terrifying Rottweiler's that these police owned. It would be stupid to think about.

"Well, Tobias!" Riddler exclaimed as they fled, "That's Miss Quinn down – how about you get ready for the rest of them? Only a few more to go!"


	38. And so the Cracks Show

The next few months could only be described as a crime spree. Tobias worked over time to release their criminals, to free the scum that he'd be working with, whilst Quinn and Riddler preferred to operate on the side-lines, preparing things for when the assassin returned. They couldn't be caught without plans, after all.

What kind of masterminds would they be?

"Ah, Nightmare, so glad you're back!" Riddler called when the child returned, his breathing laboured from running, "This place was starting to lose its charm. You've collected our friend, correct? Mr Crane?"

"The man's not of my concern – I told you, I'm not collecting him. You or Miss Quinzel can do it, but I won't," he was adamant that, if he were to give into this demand, they'd laden him with a thousand more. Tobias wanted to keep his place as a third mastermind secure, which seemed plausible in light of Harley's affections.

She spent most of her days away now, where she could hide without the pressure of social norms. An old room was situated to her needs; it was crumbled, old, and smelt as though a hundred wildebeest had made their home there, granted that she didn't mind. It was nice to rest somewhere that wasn't a prison. Made a change, at least.

"How do you expect us to succeed?" the criminal pestered as Nightmare walked through the halls, which were collapsing under their own weight, "If we don't have Crane on our side, then we might as well wave bon voyage to our plans!" a reasonable argument since, for all intents and purposes, Batman believed Scarecrow to be dead. His presence on their team would certainly shake things up a bit, should everything go smoothly and the criminals didn't fall apart.

Tobias smiled whilst he gazed about at the home, broken beyond repair around him, "We'd do well to have him in a more stable environment. If I'm to collect him – the Scarecrow, without his gas – then I want him to be locked away from the others, especially if he's up to his old tricks. You understand that?"

A silent stand-off took effect. The walls around them began to fall, crumble to dust as their gazes clashed together, and battled with each other to gain a foothold. For a moment, Tobias was on top. Then it was Riddler. Tobias again; Riddler stole the advantage point. They continued until an eternity had passed, until the green-clad man finally dropped his gaze.

"Fine, fine, I'm sure we can arrange something," his voice was laced by a fury, "Some extra funding might come, provided that Penguin joins our crusade! How are those negotiations?"

"Going well. Give me a few more days and we might have him on our side; I haven't told him that Harley's with us yet. Shouldn't let those deal-breaking details out, should I?" the child chuckled to himself before he flipped, landing expertly on a small jutting platform. Its mildew covered floor had cracks in it, bumps that used to be bricks, although he saw no reason not to sleep on it. A few flowers there, a small blanket there – it needed a tender hand to stroke it, rather than sharpened eyes.

Riddler was only half paying attention, "Hmm? Oh, no; if he's going to break our little arrangement, there's only one thing to do. Your daggers haven't been employed for a while."

The night went on for a while, but no one slept. Tobias had trouble forgetting some of his more prominent memories, tossing and turning to the sound of his failures, whereas Harley and Riddler hadn't fallen asleep in a great many days, since they felt such fear for the child outside. Their concern could've almost been called paternal, if they weren't worried that he'd ruin their plans.

"She's trying to hide something," Mr Nigma spoke to himself as he 'rested', "Quinn's not over the Joker. She'll be working to her own plan…she might hinder our approaches!"

"Riddler's trying to hide something," the Clownette was crying to the broken picture of her puddin', "he'll try to kill me, just like Batman killed you. Can I trust squirt? He's saved me once, Mister J – do you think he'll turn his back?"

"They're talking about each other," Tobias sat up under his cloak, "They're scheming. These are my peers. This is what my life's become."

He'd prefer to walk out of that place then, to stroll calmly away and act like it'd never happened. What good could come out of working with such people, who'd happily slice each other's throats for a little comfort? They had none of his League's charm, absolutely none of it; if he had a choice, Nightmare would quickly disappear from that place.

But the plan was in motion. His labours would be fruitless. His time, however important, would've been wasted. There was no way Tobias could leave, not after all the work he'd put in, no matter how decrepit their idea was.

The assassin had to stay. He just had to. He'd promised.


	39. Coming Closer

Almost seven months after Arkham City, Tobias felt confident. He felt as though his efforts – every single last drop of sweat, every prison escape – were finally coming to a head, and he was the one standing on top. Each criminal crucial to them had been freed, which meant that the most slow-paced phase of their plan had been completed. The time was nearing.

Nightmare knew his daggers would taste blood.

"There you are!" Riddler called after the assassin emerged, weary after yet another busy night. He was presented by a congratulatory meal, consisting of primarily bread and cheese, whilst Harley sang absent-mindedly to herself in the distance. It seemed peaceful in the decrepit walls.

"When do you plan for us to move?" Tobias asked as he settled on a broken support beam, "I'm starting to become bored." Whilst he spoke, the child began to tear into the small bread loaf, which had been stolen earlier that night by Harley. Her strolls had taken her to some rather peculiar places; sometimes, when she was alone, she could swear that she heard the voice of her beloved Joker, often causing her to travel down awkward paths and lonely roads. The bread was but one of the many treasures she found.

Riddler was humming a tune when he replied, "In time, in time. How's Mr Crane? Did you find him well?"

"He's alive, if that's what you mean. I had to convince him that he'll have access to a lab, should we succeed – not my problem to get that."

His sharp voice was tinged with rage, as he'd attempted to discourage Scarecrow's membership. The man possessed dangerous attributes, some that were difficult to pinpoint and others, less so. Who would want to work with him? What person in their right mind would form an alliance, if there were bounties of other options available?

"Good, good, we should be able to get that," muttered the green-clad supervillian, swanning between a few beeping machines and flashing monitors. Tobias had been useful in more ways than just leg power since, with his superior intellect, he'd managed to get every rectangular piece of engineering running, almost as smoothly as when they had been first made. Each one now directed themselves on Batman's activity…or lack of it.

But no one paid too much attention to that. He would show himself in time, most likely when their plans came into fruition, and Nightmare would have yet another chance to rid himself of that pest. Time was passing.

The nights were growing colder.

Days passed, in which the child was surprised to see a food supply coming in. It was not just Harley's strolls that brought their nourishment; the Penguin, after harsh negotiations with Tobias and a few promises from Riddler, had decided to send over small foodstuff caches, in a modest show of good faith as their plans continued to form. He'd much rather see Harley die of course, but he couldn't deny that the assassin's skills were far more useful than a collection piece. Everyone's best interests fell to keeping that young boy alive, just long enough so they could exploit his talents.

As well as food and the general treasures, Nightmare also witnessed increased news reports in the Arkham area. Crews and journalists came to their destroyed prison, armed to the teeth with an assortment of cameras, trying to uncover something that would be worth television. He'd like to spit on all of their dreams – these people would sooner see them lobotomised, if it meant that they'd get some news coverage out of it. Humanity would do anything to get their faces on screen. Why else would they come near something so fearful?

"There has been no sign of the Hooded Nightmare since Harley's capture," the child sat on a broken column one morning, watching as the blonde-haired reporter droned on, "It's been suggested that he not only helped her escape several months ago, but has been a crucial element in all recent prison breaks. Dozens of riots have gripped the country for his arrest; it begs the question, how safe are we in Gotham?"

A chuckle, "You're not safe at all, Miss Vale. No one's safe."

"In recent studies, there has been an increased amount of attacks against Gothamites, mostly stemming from crazed people who had once-"

She was cut mid-sentence by an old man, ambling past on a withered old wooden stick and sporting a rather large wool cap. His eyes glared straight into hers – the Devil's gaze, if you believed in such tales – and Tobias' interest perked. Who was this valiant OAP?

"Yer preaching to madmen, Vale," he spat in a wizened voice, broken by both age and regret, "They're not listenin', much as we won't be listenin' in a few days. Don't ya see what's happening?"

In a typical fashion, Vicki's microphone fell to the man before her answer did, "What's your take on this situation then, sir?" rain began to spit on the unsuspecting street-goers, the cluster of an audience that Vale had managed to collect and, much to her dismay, Vicki herself, "There's not much hope for Gotham, is that what you're saying?"

"Ain't much hope for anyone anymore. We're all dead sooner or later; comin' quicker than we thought, but it's coming. Ain't no doubt about that."

"So, you're afraid that the Hooded Nightmare will return?"

"What's all this 'bout Nightmare? Kid's done wrong, but he ain't much in the scheme o' things." The man shuffled slightly in his soggy loafers, watching intently as the rain fell past his eyes.

"You're saying that he's not a villain?"

"Course he's evil, but ain't we all? Evil in our own way. This city's gonna burn soon enough – Nightmare or Joker or Harley or someone, don't matter much," with that, he began to hobble away from stunner onlookers, "can't change evil, can't stop it none either."

Tobias smiled to himself. That man had the right idea; that man, in all his age and wisdom, knew that there was no hope left for Gotham. It would burn soon enough.

Time was nearing.


End file.
